Shards of Time: The Master of Death
by Shitsumeishi
Summary: Harry Potter is just an eccentric school boy with some unusual talents. Lord Peverell-Black, on the other hand, is a magically and politically powerful man with the world at his fingertips and a war at his doorstep. Time travel, no pairings.
1. Prologue: The Curse

Summary: Harry Potter is just an eccentric school boy with some unusual talents. Lord Peverell-Black, on the other hand, is a magically and politically powerful man with the world at his fingertips and a war at his doorstep. [Time travel, no pairings.]  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This work has not been endorsed by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros., or any of the others holding copyright or license to the Harry Potter books, movies, and products. No connection is implied or should be inferred. Other names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author receives no financial gain from its production or distribution.

Note: Part of this chapter is taken directly from the seventh HP book. I make no claim to this.

* * *

Shards of Time: The Master of Death

Prologue  
_The Curse_

* * *

_"So we reach into the raging chaos, and we pluck some small glittering thing, and we cling to it. We tell ourselves it has meaning, the world is good, we are not evil, and we will all go home in the end." - Anne Rice_

Death was frowning. It wasn't something that he did often, but at the moment he was frowning more fiercely than he had in years.

After a moment he let out sigh and shifted position slightly on his wooden chair while tapping his fingers on the armrest in irritation. Currently Death was sitting on a in the middle of a small, oval-shaped room. Said room was packed with tall bookshelves that held innumerous items, from books more ancient than magic itself to strange devices that looked as though they'd fit better in a science fiction movie.

Death let out a second sigh and ran his old, wrinkled hand through his wispy white hair—or at least what was left of it. As he stared at the wall across from him, his gaze turned into a fierce glare.

'_Damn that little brat,_' he thought angrily. '_Damn him for saving me. Granted, I'm glad that I __was__ saved, even though I couldn't have actually died—that'd be contradictory—, but still! Now I owe the brat a favor! I never owe people favors!_' Death's glare sharpened even further before finally, after a moment of wishing the object of his anger would just burn away, relented. '_But I always __do__ give favors where they are due. And with him gaining the Title on top it..._'

Death let out a third and final sigh. It seemed that it was time for him to get to work.

* * *

Harry could feel his wand against his chest, but he made no attempt to draw it. He and Voldemort looked at each other, and now Voldemort titled his head a little to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled on the lipless mouth.

"Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been a part of the spitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived."

None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling against his bonds and Bellatrix was panting.

Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still titled to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear—

He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.

* * *

He lay facedown, listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. He was not perfectly sure that he was there himself.

A long time later, or maybe no time at all, it came to him that he must exist, must be more than a disembodied thought, because he was lying, definitely lying, on some surface. Therefore he had a sense of touch, and the thing against which he lay existed too.

Almost as soon as he had reached this conclusion, Harry became conscious that he was naked. Convinced as he was of his total solitude, this did not concern him, but it did intrigue him slightly. He wondered whether, as he could feel, he would be able to see. In opening them, he discovered that he had eyes.

He lay in a bright mist, though it was not like mist he had ever experienced before. His surroundings were not hidden by cloudy vapor; rather the cloudy vapor had not yet formed into his surroundings. The floor on which he lay seemed to be white, neither warm nor cold, but simply there, a flat, blank something on which to be.

He sat up. His body appeared to be unscathed. He touched his face. He was not wearing glasses anymore.

Then a noise reached him though the unformed nothingness that surrounded him: the sound of small, soft thumping.

Quickly he stood up, looking around. Or at least, he tried to stand up. Instead he found himself slipping back onto the floor as the white world around him spun. He groaned, holding his suddenly throbbing head. Unbidden, darkness started creeping into the corners of his vision as the previously soft thumping sound started to increase in volume. He desperately attempted to grasp onto his slipping consciousness, but before he knew it the floor was rushing up to meet him and his world was enveloped in darkness once more.

Despite his seemingly unconscious state however, the thumping did not go away. Rather, it seemed to get even clearer, as if it was coming closer and closer. Before he knew it, the oppressive sound felt as though it had surrounded his entire being, beating against his brain, louder even than the rhythmic thumping of his heart.

With a startled, half strangled gasp he shot up, fully awake. The thumping was still there, and indeed was even louder now.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

* * *

A/N: Ah, the ever-popular and over-used time travel plot.

Or not.

Seriously, this story will be different in many ways. Mainly in that it will be AU. _Highly_ AU. It'll at least partially follow the canon storyline up until the end of Harry's first year, and then shall diverge completely. Many elements of the canon storyline shall still be in it, of course, but will be out of order and twisted to fit my needs as the story progresses. Also, only a relatively small portion of the story will actually be about what happens to Harry in Hogwarts. The rest will be set outside of the school. You'll see what I mean eventually.

As for how else this story will be different...Well, let's just say I'll be changing some of the characters. Why? Canon Harry is a doormat with some serious self image issues. Granted, he's a victim of circumstance, but he's a doormat nonetheless. The Harry of this story, though diverged from canon, will not be anything like that. As a matter of fact, long before this story is even half over many of the characters featured in this story will be completely different from their canon counterparts. So here's a fair warning: Those of you who are looking for a recount of the HP books turn back now. This story is going to be _far_ different from that.

Oh, and in case it wasn't obvious, this chapter was set in the very end of the seventh HP book. Everything up until then happened exactly as it did in the canon.

The first chapter will be up tomorrow. Please review to let me know what you think!

[Shi]


	2. Chapter I: The Zoo

Summary: Harry Potter is just an eccentric school boy with some unusual talents. Lord Peverell-Black, on the other hand, is a magically and politically powerful man with the world at his fingertips and a war at his doorstep. [Time travel, no pairings.]

* * *

Shards of Time: The Master of Death

Chapter I  
_The Zoo_

* * *

_"You have to accept the past to change the future." - unknown_

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Panting harshly, Harry stared wide-eyed at the the door that was the source of the thumping that had been ringing in his ears. He nearly jumped when, after a pause, it was rapped on again.

"Up!" the voice on the other side screeched again.

Harry just continued to stare at the door, eyes wide and mouth gapping. He _knew_ that voice. He'd heard it all of his life, except for the past year.

His heart starting to pound, Harry slowly moved his head to survey the small space that he was in, and instantly recognized it. How could he not? It had been his room for the first half of his life. It was the cupboard under the stairs.

Harry closed his eyes tightly, blocking out the familiar sight of the dusty corners and fighting the hysteria building within him. No! This wasn't possible! His mind scrambled around for some kind of an explanation to this madness—after all, he'd been away from the Dursley's household for at least a year and hadn't been in the cupboard for nearly seven years.

The last thing that Harry could fully remember was being hit by the killing curse. Bloody hell, that was weird to even think—being hit by the _killing_ curse. After that, everything was kind of fuzzy. He remembered the white...space...but that seemed like such a fanciful, unrealistic dream, and he had only been there a few seconds ago! Or at least it felt like a few seconds. Considering that he'd blacked out and woken up in _here_, it could have just as well been a century.

But if he'd been hit with the killing curse...Was he dead? He certainly hadn't expected to live past his stupid stunt. If he was then this must be hell. But then again...If it really was hell, then why was it "starting" just before he _left_ the Dursleys instead of when he was younger? It didn't make any sense at all...

Unwilling to follow that train of thought, Harry reached out once more, and his hands felt the old wood that created the opening to his childhood prison. Cobwebs sat in the back corners of the space, familiar old toys and papers littering the floor, and small shelves were built into the wall. Below these was a small pile of child's clothing.

Suddenly Harry became aware that his aunt was standing outside the door again. "Are you up yet?" she demanded once again banging on the door to his old room_. _Dust from the stairs fell on his head as someone up above stomped their way down.

"Nearly," Harry replied weakly, his mind reeling.

"Well get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything to be perfect on Duddy's birthday."

Harry couldn't help the choked noise that escaped his throat. Merlin, he hadn't heard that nickname in so long. Not since he was a kid. Just how old was he? Obviously he had to be fairly young; he wouldn't be able to fit into the cupboard otherwise.

"What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door.

"Nothing, nothing..." Harry replied quickly.

Hesitantly, Harry shifted so that he was on his knees and then moved over to the door. He paused with his hand on the old golden handle, staring down at the small, bony hand that belonged to him. It fit so easily on the worn handle that the door almost seemed giant next him. Taking a deep breath, he turned the handle and stepped outside.

The hall that ran the length of the house looked just as it always had, Harry noted. He slowly walked along it toward the kitchen, his mind still in turmoil. He half expected to wake up at any moment, either to death or to Voldemort and his group of Death Eaters. Nothing happened as he walked though, and after only a moment he reached the kitchen.

Inside, the usually bare kitchen table was almost completely hidden beneath all of Dudley's bright wrapped birthday presents. Among them Harry noticed a new computer, television, and racing bike.

_Eleven_. Harry sudden realized. He was eleven. Or at least nearly eleven; Dudley had received his racing bike on his eleventh birthday. Why Harry could remember this was a complete mystery to him, but it helped out nonetheless.

Harry easily slipped back into the routine that he'd lived by almost all of his life as he stepped up to the stove and gripped onto the frying pan and began to turn over the bacon. It'd been a while since he'd last really cooked, but some things you just don't forget.

It was, of course, at that moment that his Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen.

"Comb your hair!" he barked by way of morning greeting.

Harry just continued to silently turn over the bacon. The greeting didn't even sound strange to him, so used to it he'd been. For a moment he could almost believe that he really was just eleven and that his time at Hogwarts had never existed.

Abruptly a cold fear gripped Harry and he swallowed thickly. What if it had just been a dream? What if magic didn't really exist? If Hogwarts didn't really exist? If everyone had really just been...

It was only when Harry felt himself breathe in sharply, lungs burning, that he realized that he hadn't been breathing. Carefully, he relaxed the iron grip that he had on the frying pan and turned his attention back on the bacon even as his wild thoughts flew through his head.

_No,_ he thought franticly, _it couldn't be a dream_. There was no way that he could dream up all that. There was no way that he could dream up a full seven years of his life—he just wasn't that creative, or desperate. Besides if he ever needed to dream how his life _could _have been, why make it so every year was shadowed with peril and danger? He wasn't masochistic.

As Harry's thoughts trailed off, he fell back into the monotony of cooking. He didn't think—didn't want to think, honestly. He just worked on breakfast, quietly taking in the sounds of activity around him. He didn't know what to think about his situation right now so, quite simply, he wouldn't think of anything at all.

Once he was done with both the bacon and the eggs, Harry carried the plates to the table. By now Dudley had already arrived and was in an argument with his parents, though a rather one sided one, as his parents always did anything to appease him. He was whining loudly about the number of his presents, saying that there was _one_ less than last year. Harry had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

Suddenly, when Dudley was half way through unwrapping the presents, Aunt Petunia entered the room looking both angry and worried. Harry gave a start upon seeing her; he'd been so out of it that he hadn't even noticed her leave the room in the first place.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said roughly. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him." She jerked her head in Harry's direction. "Now what?" she continued after a pause.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."

"What about what's-her-name, your friend—Yvonne?"

From there, Harry tuned out his relatives conversation. He vaguely remembered that something important had happened on Dudley's eleventh birthday, but because of the excitement surrounding his _own_ birthday that year, it was all kind of blurry. It couldn't have been too important though, if he really couldn't remember it.

When Harry looked up again, he saw that Dudley had begun to cry shrilly. He wasn't really crying of course—it was that fake, wailing cry that he'd used to get whatever he wanted when he was younger.

Of course, Aunt Petunia immediately fell for it. "Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I...don't...want...him...t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp-spoils everything!" He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Offhandedly, Harry wondered if Dudley had really been this immature when he was younger—he couldn't quite remember. The image of his cousin that he had stuck in his head was of the mature Dudley that had said goodbye to him just before he'd left the Dursley's permanently.

Just then, the doorbell rang—"Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically—and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later found Harry sitting in the back of the Dursley's car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo. Harry rested his head against the cool glass of the car window and proceeded to zone out once more.

It was a very sunny day and the zoo was crowded with families. As they walked along Harry could hazily remember coming here before, though it definitely didn't stand out in his mind. They spent hours just walking around, staring at the animals, and then, after eating lunch, they went into the reptile house.

As Harry shivered in the dampness of the dark building, he felt something tugging at the corners of his memories. Attempting to remember, he watched as Dudley and Piers knocked on the glass of the cage of the largest snake in the place. Harry waited until the two got bored with the unresponsive snake and left before heading over to the tank himself.

As soon as he laid eyes on the snake, a memory of Harry's came rushing back to him. This was the first snake that he'd ever talked to! He'd even made the glass of the tank vanish and set the snake free.

As Harry stared at the snake it suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on level with Harry's. Then it winked and Harry couldn't help but grin in reply. He had the urge to look around to make sure that no one was watching, but he already knew that no one was.

Harry leaned forward, closer to the glass. "_**I bet you'd like to get out of here**_**,**" he murmured in parsletongue. At the same time he glanced over at the sign next to the tank that read: This specimen was bred in the zoo.

The boa constrictor titled its head slightly, studying Harry, and then slowly nodded its head.

Harry opened his mouth to speak further, when suddenly a deafening shout came from behind him. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T _BELIEVE_ WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Not expecting the blow from his cousin, Harry was caught by surprise and fell hard onto the concrete floor. Instantly, Harry felt feelings of annoyance bubbling up within him. Before he could rein the emotions in however, he felt his magic raise up, wilder than he could ever remember it being. The effects were instantaneous—one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next they had leapt back with howls of horror.

As soon as this occurred people started screaming and leaping away as the great snake uncoiled itself rapidly and slithered out onto the floor. The snake stopped in front of Harry, raising his head up to the boy's eye level. Understanding the snake's questioning gaze, Harry spoke rapidly in parsletongue.

"_**Follow my scent out to the parking lot. Get onto the car there, but keep out of sight.**_"

The snake nodded its head once more and then quickly moved out of the building and into the shadows.

* * *

Harry was locked in his cupboard with the punishment of no meals. Normally he'd be annoyed and hungry, but he wasn't at the moment. No, instead there was small smile plastered across his face.

After returning to the Dursleys—for he didn't think that he could ever really call it home—Harry had managed to get a quick word into the boa constrictor that had managed to wrap itself around the exhaust pipe under the car. It was now hanging out under the house, waiting until Harry could talk to it. And Harry knew that he would as soon as he had the chance. He'd wondered what had happened to it originally, and now he had a chance to help it.

Harry's mind was once again racing, but he was no longer as confused as he'd been before. After the whole zoo fiasco and the reassurance that he had his parsletongue abilities, Harry had started to _really_ think about what was happening to him.

Harry knew that it was definitely real and he was pretty sure that it wasn't death. The closest thing that he could relate it to was his experience with a time turner during his third year. The only difference was that he _was_ younger instead of having a younger counterpart running about. Still, it was the only real idea that he had, so Harry latched onto it.

And indeed, the idea that he could be in the past made Harry almost giddy. It was just the idea that he could _change_ things, could make things turn out differently. All the needless deaths didn't have to happen. Voldemort didn't have to return. He could _stop it_ _all_. He'd never considered the possibility of changing the past before, but now that such an idea was laid out before him, it seemed too obvious.

And now all he had to do was wait for his Hogwarts letter to come.

* * *

A/N: No, the snake isn't going to become Harry's familiar like you see in so many stories—it won't even be his pet for, that matter. I have important plans for that snake; you'll see.

And as for the Death scene in the prologue: Death will be a very important character. _However_, you won't get to see him again, nor understand what he was talking about in terms of "owing" Harry, for quite a while yet.

Other than that, not much happened in this chapter and it hasn't diverged from canon much yet...This was more of a "setting up" chapter than anything else. The next one should prove to be _much_ more interesting, and it'll also be a fair bit longer.

Please review to let me know what you think!

[Shi]


	3. Chapter II: The Letter

Summary: Harry Potter is just an eccentric school boy with some unusual talents. Lord Peverell-Black, on the other hand, is a magically and politically powerful man with the world at his fingertips and a war at his doorstep. [Time travel, no pairings.]

* * *

Shards of Time: The Master of Death

Chapter II_  
The Letter_

* * *

_"It's when we allow others to think for us, that the whole world suffers." - unknown_

Harry was bored. Not in the sense that he didn't have anything to do—though he didn't, at the moment—but rather because he had to wait for his letter to Hogwarts to come. He wasn't sure exactly when the letter would first arrive, but he knew that it was some time before his eleventh birthday. Considering as that date was in exactly one week, he was starting to feel quite anxious.

Harry sighed as he quietly stepped out into the backyard of his relatives' home taking in the sight without really seeing it. It was early, so much so that the sun was only just beginning to peek over the horizon, but he couldn't sleep. So, instead, he was heading outside to have a long overdo chat with the Brazilian boa constrictor that he'd helped free from the zoo. Harry wasn't sure exactly why he'd done it, but it had just felt...right.

With a second sigh, Harry plopped down onto the grass right outside the back of the house to wait. He didn't have to do so long however, as just moments later the thick nearly seven foot long snake came slithering out from under the house. It curled up next to Harry and then raised its head to look at him.

Harry hesitated for a moment. "_**Er, hello...**_" He felt awkward and suddenly he realized that he'd never actually held a conversation with a snake before.

"_**Hello,**_" the snake hissed back.

Harry paused again. He really wasn't sure how to go about this conversation. Finally, he continued, "_**I'm Harry Potter.**_"

"_**I am Xiuhcoatl,**_" the snake replied. Harry noticed now that he had a slight accent, even though he'd apparently been raised in captivity. "_**I thank you for freeing me. I am in your debt.**_"

Harry blinked and exhaled in surprise. He opened his mouth to say something, but after a moment closed it, before opening it once more, only to close it again. Xiuhcoatl titled his head inquiringly. Harry was certain it would have raised an eyebrow at his actions if it had been physically capable of doing so.

"_**Uh, sorry,**_" Harry said. "_**I just hadn't realized that snakes were so...intelligent.**_" A blush was threatening to over take his face and he fought to hide it.

"_**Most are not,**_" the boa constrictor conceded. Then he raised his head up proudly. "_**But I'm a Brazilian boa constrictor.**_"

Harry tilted his head, waiting a second for clarification, but when Xiuhcoatlremained silent, he ventured a question. "_**...Sorry, but that doesn't really mean much to me; I don't know very much about snakes.**_"

Xiuhcoatl gave a strange nod of his head, which Harry somehow interpreted into a shrug. He wasn't sure how he knew; he just _did_.

"_**It's fine; most don't know about us anyway. We boa constrictors are special though: We can sense both wizards and Speakers.**_"

Instantly, Harry's eyebrow rose up into his hairline. "_**You can sense wizards and people who speak parsletongue?**_" he repeated, disbelief coloring his tone.

Xiuhcoatl nodded. "_**All of my species can, though no one knows why. We're just...different...**_" he said with another strange nod/shrug.

Harry paused again. "_**Wait,**_" he said after a moment, "_**How do you know about wizards? Or about your abilities for that matter? Weren't you raised in captivity?**_"

Xiuhcoatl did his version of a shrug again. "_**I just know,**_" he replied honestly. "_**Just as I know how to wrap around a prey to kill it the quickest, how to smell when its going to rain, or which mice taste the best.**_"

"_**Instinct...**_" Harry murmured quietly. And honestly, it made sense, even if it was a bit complicated if once you thought about it too much. Harry melted into silence for a minute after that before he looked up at Xiuhcoatl once more.

"_**So, Xi-iuh-ca...Can I just call you Xi or something?**_"

The snake shrugged once more. "_**I do not mind.**_"

"_**Right, well, Xi, I'm sorry about making you wait so long since I got you out of the zoo; this is the first chance that I've had to come out and speak with you.**_"

"_**It is fine; I'm here to ssstay with you after all.**_"

Harry jerked in surprise. "_**Ss-stay with me?**_"

"_**Of course. As I said, I am in your debt, and so I will stay with you.**_"

Harry couldn't help but stare at Xiuhcoatl, dumbfounded, and the snake simply watched him back. He'd never expected that just freeing a snake could have such consequences. Almost all of the snakes that he'd spoken to had not been very intelligent—indeed, most of them could only really comprehend hunting, sleeping, mating, and predators—so Xiuhcoatl's intellect was a real shock to the system.

"_**Right, well...**_" Harry stumbled over his words. Really, everything was an eye-opener now. He was tempted to tell the boa constrictor that there was no debt between them, but somehow he doubted that Xiuhcoatl would listen to him. A thought to Slytherins and honor crossed his mind, but he shrugged he thought away. "_**...I'm going to Hogwarts, a wizarding school, in just over a month and I doubt that they're going to let me take a snake of any type, let alone a seven foot long Brazilian boa constrictor.**_"

Xiuhcoatl just shrugged, showing that he thought that that was Harry's problem, not his. And sadly it was…

The green eyed boy let out a sigh and began to search his mind for any good ideas. There had to be someway that he could bring Xiuhcoatl to school with out anyone finding out. Maybe...maybe...Wait! Maybe he could Apparate Xiuhcoatl to the area outside Hogwarts grounds, just outside of the Apparition wards!

Excited, Harry turned to Xiuhcoatl. "_**I can Side-Along Apparate you there!**_" he exclaimed. "_**You can stay in the Forbidden Forest-there will be a lot of food for you there.**_"

* * *

Later that morning, Harry wore a small grin on his face as he finished eating his breakfast. The Dursleys ate on, oblivious to his mood. Just as he was finishing taking his last couple of bites, they heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," Uncle Vernon said absently from behind his paper. Dudley frowned, banging his fist on the table.

"Make Harry get it."

Why did this seem so familiar?

"Get the mail, Harry,"

"Make Dudley get it." Oh…This was the exact argument he had last time. Harry sighed _am I really this childish, now?_

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three items lying on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and an envelope made of thick, yellowish parchment with the address written in emerald-green ink.

Upon seeing that last envelope, Harry nearly felt his heart stop. There it was: his Hogwarts letter. Just like last time it was addressed:

_Mr. H. Potter  
The Cupboard under the Stairs  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey_

A large smile nearly split Harry's face in two. Quickly, he shoved the letter into one of his oversized pockets and then reentered the kitchen after smoothing out all expressions of joy from his face.

Harry had to wait another agonizing half an hour after breakfast before finally getting a chance to open the letter. He was outside, pulling some weeds out of the back garden on his Aunt's orders. Uncle Vernon had left for work, Dudley had gone out to God only knew where, and Aunt Petunia was inside talking on the phone—gossiping about other people as usual; her grating voice heard outside even with the door closed—so he was all alone.

Resting on his heels, Harry tossed the last weed away with a sigh. He glanced over the small garden to make sure that he hadn't left anything out. When he was sure that he was done, he quietly stood up and then sat down in the shade of the singe tree that decorated the backyard. Then he pulled out The Letter. It was made up two documents. The first read:

Hogwarts School_  
of_ Witchcraft _and_ Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(_Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards_)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are please to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,_  
Deputy Headmistress_

Harry felt a smile returning to his face as he read through the familiar, comforting words. Glancing up, he noticed an owl was sitting on the roof of the house, watching him. No doubt it was one of the school owls.

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen that he'd taken from the kitchen earlier just for this purpose. Then he quickly wrote a reply on the back of the letter, saying that he gladly accepted and would be on the train on September 1st. Harry was tempted not to reply so that he'd get to meet Hagrid early again, but there were a bunch of things that he needed to do this time around that he couldn't do with Hagrid peering over his shoulder. Well, at least not without seeming too suspicious.

As soon as Harry was done with the letter and had it wrapped back up, the owl swooped down from the roof, picked it up in its talons, and then flew off.

Harry stared after the owl as it flew away. Only once it had disappeared did he turn his attention to the second piece of parchment lying in his lap. This one, he saw as he picked it up, was a list of all the items needed for the school year. Harry glanced over it quickly, nothing that everything was exactly as he remembered, before folding it up and placing it back in his pocket.

As Harry leaned back against the tree behind him, he started thinking of all the things that he would need to do in order to stop Voldemort. Destroying all of the Horcruxes was first and foremost on that list. And now that he knew what all of them were and _where_ they were, he could get them a lot easier.

First of all, there was Tom Riddle's diary. He'd have to wait until his second year when Malfoy slipped it to Ginny before destroying it though.

Second was the rock on Marvolo Gaunt's ring. That he could easily pick up at the ruins of the Gaunt's house—he was fairly sure that Dumbledore hadn't gotten to it yet. And if the headmaster already had, well, that just meant that it would be destroyed eventually, without his help.

The third Horcrux was Slytherin's locket. This was safely tucked away in Grimmauld Place, where Harry could easily get to it. Harry wondered offhandedly whether or not he still owned that piece of property. If he did, then it certainly would be quite helpful to get it without having to sneak around behind everyone's back.

…Plus, was anyone even living there? And what of Sirius' mother's portrait...?

Another of the Horcruxes was Hufflepuff's cup. Just knowing that it was still it Bellatrix's vault in Gringotts made Harry sigh and throw an arm over his eyes. It had been difficult enough stealing it once with the help of his friends, but getting it a second time, and by _himself_, was going to be nearly impossible. Harry decided that he'd leave that one alone for a little while, until he could figure out someway to get it out safely.

Fifth was Ravenclaw's diadem, which was in the Room of Requirement. Harry would have no problem finding it again; he could clearly remembered where Voldemort had left it, among the mountains of lost items.

The sixth Horcrux was Nagini, Voldemort's snake. Harry honestly had no idea where she was at this point in time. He'd just have to wait until Voldemort showed up with her before he could take her out.

And then there was the final Horcrux. Himself. Harry let out a sigh as his shoulders dropped. He had no idea what he was going to do about that. He couldn't even tell if getting himself killed destroyed the Horcrux because of the whole "going back in time" thing.

At the moment, there really wasn't much that Harry could do about the Horcruxes that were out of his reach. He could, however, get the Gaunt ring, Slytherin's locket, and Ravenclaw's diadem. He'd take care of the diary in his second year and he'd eventually figure out someway to get to the cup. The only Horcruxes that would really be a problem were Nagini and himself.

Coming to that conclusion, Harry's thoughts shifted away from the Horcruxes and toward his next problem: the Deathly Hallows. The cloak, the rock, and the wand. It'd probably be best if he gathered them up again as well.

Getting the cloak wouldn't be too much of a problem. He would just have to wait until Christmas and Dumbledore would give it back to him…Hopefully. The ring would be easy to get a hold of too, so long as it was still at the Gaunt's home. Not to mention that getting it would also take care of one of the Horcruxes.

And then, finally, there was the wand. At this point in time it was still in Dumbledore's possession. Harry had absolutely no idea how he would get a hold of it. The only way he'd gotten it last time was because Draco Malfoy has disarmed Dumbledore, and then he'd stolen the Malfoy heir's wand. And even then the wand itself had been in Voldemort's possession. Harry figured that he'd leave considering how to get the Elder wand for another time, if he even decided to try to get it at all. Just leaving it with Dumbledore for now seemed to make the most sense—not only would it be safe, but it would save him time.

Harry sighed for a third time. It was going to be insanely difficult to gather up all of the Horcruxes and the Deathly Hallows, but he would do it anyway. He had to.

And now he had years to do it all, not just months with Death Eaters at his back.

The third thing that Harry would have to do was increase his ties to the political world, loathe as he was to do so. Unlike in the first war with Voldemort, the second war had been mostly political and had ended up with Voldemort completely taking over the Ministry. Harry couldn't let that happen, not again.

The only way to stop this that Harry could see was to grow in strength politically, and perhaps even get closer to Fudge, if only to stop Lucius Malfoy from influencing the man so much. His fame would definitely help out this time, no matter how much Harry despised being in the limelight.

The fourth thing that Harry needed to take care of was helping out his friends. This time around, he could help them be prepared. If only they could all perform more spells, and perform them well, then they could help stop Voldemort. This time, no one had to die. No one had to even get hurt.

Harry raised his right hand away from his face, looking at the smooth skin on his hand. He felt so young now, even though he'd never been "old in the first place". Staring at his unmarred, unscarred skin only furthered this feeling.

"Boy!" a screech suddenly came from inside and Harry jerked up. "What're you doing, lounging around? If you're done weeding the backyard, then start on the front!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied. He then scrambled to his feet before she could start screeching again, pushing his thoughts of the wizarding world away. He'd only have to deal with his relatives a little bit longer and then he'd get to meet his friends for the first time.

...Again.

* * *

Harry waited another month after receiving his letter before acting. By that time his birthday had come and passed without incident and his Aunt and Uncle were none the wiser to his knowledge about the wizarding world. Maybe they had thought they were successful in "stamping the magic out of him". Finally, on the 30th of August, two days before he'd have to go to Hogwarts, Harry stepped out of the cupboard with all of the determination that he'd garnered over the years.

As Harry approached the front door, his Uncle Vernon suddenly stepped out of the kitchen, in the middle of tying his tie.

Seeing Harry out of his "room", he immediately boomed out, "Boy! Where do you think you're going?"

Hearing his voice, Aunt Petunia and Dudley peeked around Vernon curiously. Harry stopped in his tracks with his hand resting on the door handle. Turning slightly, he looked back at his relatives.

"Why, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, of course," Harry replied, smiling brightly at the absolutely dumbfounded looks on his relatives faces. "I'll see you again on the twentieth of June!"

And with that Harry quickly slipped out the door.

* * *

An hour later found Harry walking down the crowded streets of London. After leaving his relatives, Harry had Apparated to the nearby train station—and then marveled for a moment in the revelation that he could indeed still Apparate, despite his "age". From there he'd bought a ticket to London using money that he'd stolen from his relatives. Harry hated to steal, but he figured that after he got to Gringotts he'd have more than enough money to pay the Dursleys back what he'd taken many times over.

Once in downtown London, Harry had quickly begun to walk down the streets and was now on Charing Cross Road, just approaching where the Leaky Cauldron stood.

As soon as the famous little building came into site, Harry felt relief wash over him, though he wasn't sure why. It just felt so _good_ to see something of the wizarding world after having to stay with the Dursleys for so long. Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped inside the pub.

The inside of the Leaky Cauldron was just as dark and shabby as it'd always been. Unlike the first time he'd been here however, the people didn't stop to stare at him. Rather, they just glanced up to see who had come in, and then went back to whatever they'd been doing. Harry hung his head forward slightly as he closed the door behind him, just to make sure that his scar was completely hidden.

The first thing that Harry did was walk over to Tom, the bartender. Luckily the man was standing on the far end of the bar, where no one could eavesdrop on what Harry would say.

"Um, excuse me, sir," Harry said, doing his best impression of a wide-eyed young child. "But I need to get into Diagon Alley and I don't have a wand yet. Could you help me out?"

Tom looked around the pub, a concerned look coming onto his face. "Where're your parents, son? Are you here all alone?"

Harry nodded, adding a tremble to his bottom lip. "Yes, sir," he replied quietly. "I'm alone. My parents didn't want to come because they're Muggles. I'm going to meet my Aunt in Diagon Alley though. She's a witch!" He let out what was hopefully a bright, childish smile.

Tom smiled, his concern fading from his face. "Alright then," he said sidling out from behind the bar. "Just follow me."

Tom led Harry out to the small, walled courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron. There, he showed Harry where to tap the bricks to open up the Alley—for when Harry got his own wand, he said.

As soon as the Alley opened up, Harry did his best to stare wide eyed at everything. Then he profusely thanked Tom and slipped away with the excuse that his "Aunt" was waiting. As the bricks closed behind him, Harry looked back at it, before starting on his way

Harry walked down the crowded streets of Diagon Alley with a smile on his face. It felt great to be back amongst witches and wizards, with magic all around him. And everyone looked so _happy_. It wasn't at all like it had been during the second war with Voldemort. Everyone had been so terrified back then. But the people would never feel like that again, not if he could help it.

Determinedly, Harry walked up to the snowy white building that towered above the rest: Gringotts. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors was a stony-faced goblin wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold. The goblin bowed as Harry passed him and, to the goblin's shock, Harry replied with a bow of his head, before pushing the doors open.

Immediately inside was a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed,  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there._

Harry smirked as he read the poem, remembering how he, Ron, and Hermione had managed to break and steal Hufflepuff's cup. They'd probably been the first people to ever steal from Gringotts before, though Quirrel, spurred on by Voldemort, had managed to break in once.

Harry nodded once more as a pair of goblins bowed Harry through the silver doors and into a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were there, sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, and examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were also many doors leading off the hall, towards where the carts were. Harry immediately made for a counter, dodging other people as they stood in lines, or haggled with a goblin.

"Good morning," Harry said politely. The Goblin looked up at him and set his eyeglass down. "I need to take some money of my vault, but I'm afraid that after my parents died I was never given my key and I do not know who posses it right now."

The goblin scrutinized Harry for a moment, frowning fiercely. "May I have your name then, sir?"

"Harry Potter."

The goblin's eyes widened, his gaze instantly wandering up to where Harry's scar was hidden behind his hair. Harry had to resist the urge to reach up and flatten his hair against his forehead.

"Right, well then," the goblin said, "You can get a new key for your vault." The goblin turned away for a moment. "Kaflag!" Immediately, a short goblin hurried up them. "Take him to get a key remade. Room WC-24, I believe," he ordered.

The short goblin, Kaflag, sketched a quick bow toward Harry and the other goblin, and then began hurry away. Taking long strides, Harry followed after him.

Kaflag led Harry through a pair of black doors opposite the silver entrance ones. From there Harry followed him down a long, wide hallway that was filled with numerous goblins and a couple of humans. Finally, after just a minute, Kaflag stopped before a door with a plaque reading WC-24 on it. He made another quick bow to Harry and then hurried off without a word.

Harry stared off at where the goblin had been for a moment before shaking himself out of his reverie. He then looked back up at the door in front of him and, after taking a deep breath, stepped inside.

The door led into a medium sized office. In the center of the room was a large wooden desk that had numerous unrecognizable instruments scattered across it. Harry was momentarily reminded of Dumbledore's office, though he hadn't seen any of these devices in it. Despite the appearance of the room, however, the first thing that Harry's eyes were drawn to was the goblin sitting behind the desk.

Upon hearing the door close behind Harry, the goblin looked up. Seeing a young wizard standing there, he set down his quill and tucked away the parchment that he'd been writing on before folding his hands on his desk.

"How can I help you?"

Harry hesitated for just a moment before approaching the goblin and sitting down in one of the seats in front of the desk. "I need to get a new key for my vault. I was told to come here...?"

The goblin continued to peer at Harry. "Well at least you managed to get to the right place," he sneered condescendingly. "Where are your parents?"

Harry forcefully pushed down his annoyance. Why was everyone always asking for his parents? He was eighteen now for Merlin's sake—though, granted, he didn't look remotely like it.

"Dead," Harry replied shortly.

The goblin's eyebrows rose slightly. "Well then, can I have your name?"

"Harry Potter."

The goblin's eyebrows rose even further. "Harry Potter," he murmured. Surprisingly, he didn't try to steal a glance at Harry's forehead. "Interesting..." The goblin paused for a moment and when he spoke again it was at a normal volume. "Well, I can understand why you don't have your key then."

The goblin began shifting things around on his desks, pulling out some different papers. "Yes," the goblin said without looking up, "I can get you a new key for your vault. You'll just have to take a test and fill out some paperwork."

Harry blinked, surprised. "Test?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter," the goblin replied tersely. "A blood test to make sure that you're really who you say you are and not someone else in a disguise."

Harry nodded in understanding; that made sense. Otherwise anyone could just waltz in and get a key to someone's vault.

Finally, after a moment, the goblin pushed a single piece of parchment toward Harry. The parchment was completely blank except for an empty, thumb sized circle at the top.

"Place your thumb in the circle," the goblin instructed. "When you feel a prick, pull away."

Harry did as he was instructed and, when he pulled away, the circle had turned red, soaked with a small amount of blood. Harry stuck his thumb in his mouth to suck away the excess blood, though the prick had been so small that it wasn't even bleeding anymore.

As Harry stared at the paper, words began to form on the page. They were written in the same shade of red as his blood. It read:

_Harry James Potter  
Son of James Potter and Lily Potter nee Evans_

_Race: Human  
Special Afflictions: None  
Born: 31 July 1980  
Current Age: 18_

Special Afflictions…? Wait—current age?

Harry glanced up at the goblin, fear welling up in him, but the goblin's eyes were still riveted to the parchment. Moments later Harry saw why, as more words began to form:

_Blood heir of House Potter  
Blood heir to the Potter fortune  
Blood heir to the Potter estates_

_Blood heir of House Peverell  
Blood heir to the Peverell fortune_

_Magical heir of House Black  
Magical heir of the Black fortune  
Magical heir of the Black estates_

Harry couldn't stop the slight smile that came to his face as he read over the paper. So he had still inherited from Sirius, had he? That was very good. That he was also the heir of the Peverell's was interesting though—he'd known that the Potters were descendents of Ignotus Peverell, but not that House Peverell was still technically a House after so long a time of dormancy.

When Harry looked back up from the parchment he found the goblin staring expressionlessly at him. Forcing himself not to flinch away, he stared back in silence for the shorter being to say something, which he did while glancing down at the paper.

"This," the goblin began, tapping the Peverell name, "Is surprising. It has long been known that the Potters have descended from the Peverell line, but never before has one been the heir to House Peverell. Indeed, I believe that the Peverell name had supposedly died out with Ignotus Peverell's granddaughter.

"It's also interesting that you're the magical heir of House Black as magical heirs only come about by being named as such in wills. And considering as the last Black, Lord Arcturus Black, just died a month ago and you were not named in his will, that it very strange indeed. The heir of House Black should have been the last male of its bloodline, Sirius Black, but as he's currently incarcerated, the title of heir has automatically reverted to you. As is stated on the Blood Parchment, you are the heir of House Potter, Peverell, and Black, effective immediately because you are of age."

The goblin looked down and began sorting through papers once more. Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, looking like a fish out of water as he tried to come up with something to say.

"Aren't..." he finally began weakly, "Aren't you going to ask me...?" He was utterly confused as to why the goblin wasn't questioning him about his mismatching birth age and current age, something he would have done to someone else in his position.

The goblin only glanced up at him before looking down again. "No, Mr. Potter," he replied. "I'm not. It's your business and yours alone. And if you believe I will tell someone, then please think again; it's client confidentiality. The Blood Parchment will be filed of course, but only the highest ranking goblins will be able to view it again." He then returned to the parchments in his hands, leaving Harry to stare at him, dumbfounded.

Harry nodded slowly, not sure what to say to that. That was good though; he wouldn't want the Ministry to know and come charging in at him for something he really could not explain.

"Now," the goblin said, handing a stack of papers to Harry, "Fill these out. There is one set of papers for each key." Harry reached out for the papers, then froze as the words caught up with his brain.

"Each key?"

"Yes, each key. Where did you think the fortunes that you're now heir to are held? In accordance to old family laws, you now have a total of seven vaults in your possession: the trust vault that your family left you, the main Potter family vault, the Peverell family vault, and four Black vaults. The Black vaults include the main Black family vault, the personal vault of Sirius Black, the personal vault of Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black, and the Black personal vault of Lord Arcturus Black. You have gained Sirius Black and Bellatrix Lestrange's vaults as you are the head of the family and they both are currently incarcerated.

"Also, you should know that, with the creation of these seven new keys, any old keys will automatically turn black and thus be unable to open any of our vaults"

For a moment, Harry just stared at the goblin before him. He owned Bellatrix's vault? He had it, just like that? Just because she was in prison? He couldn't believe that he had access to it—and by extension, Hufflepuff's cup—so easily. He'd expected that he'd have to come up with another wild, nearly fatal plan to break into Gringotts.

The goblins last sentence also made him grin. The old keys would become inactive? That was perfect; even if Bellatrix got out of jail again, she would be unable to get into her vault without his permission.

Twenty minutes and several piles of paperwork later, Harry finally left the goblins office. It had taken forever to fill everything out, but the seven keys grasped tightly in his hands on a ring showed that it was worth it.

The goblin whom had helped Harry stepped out of the office just behind the young boy. "Come along," he said tersely, and then began to lead the way back to the main hall.

Harry followed him quietly, his thoughts running a mile a minute at what this implied. Now all he had to do was go down into Bellatrix's vault and retrieve the cup.

* * *

A/N: I'm a bit hesitant about making Harry the heir to three houses, but technically all three of them are canon. After all, we know from the seventh book that Harry was given control of Sirius' assets and that through the Potter line he's the last of the Peverells. More about specifically why he's been given control of the House of Peverell when it should have dissolved long ago will be explained in the future. Oh, and I should also mention that Arcturus Black is in fact a canon character who died in the summer of 1991. He's on Rowling's Black Family Tree.

Anyway, the reason why Harry now has Sirius' vault even though Sirius was disowned is because being incarcerated means that the control of his vault automatically given to his closest kin, regardless of family affairs. Also, Harry got control of Bellatrix's vault but not Narcissa's because Bellatrix's husband is also in jail, so control of the vault couldn't go to Rodolphus Lestrange. (Their spouse becomes their "next of kin"). Sorry if that whole part was a bit unclear.

[Shi]


	4. Chapter III: The Vaults

Summary: Harry Potter is just an eccentric school boy with some unusual talents. Lord Peverell-Black, on the other hand, is a magically and politically powerful man with the world at his fingertips and a war at his doorstep. [Time travel, no pairings.]

* * *

Shards of Time: The Master of Death

Chapter III_  
The Vaults_

* * *

_"Death is nothing to us, since when we are, death has not come, and when death has come, we are not." – Epicurus, "Letter to Menoeceus"_

The ride in the cart down to the vaults was just as insanely fast as it had always been. The goblin who had helped Harry was taking him down to the vaults himself, something about him being an "old client" and "security clearance"—everything else the goblin said was little more than a muttered blur.

After a couple of minutes, the cart stopped. "First stop," the goblin announced as the cart slowed. Harry instantly recognized the vault they were outside of: it was his trust vault.

The goblin took one of Harry's keys and unlocked the door. Instantly, green smoke began to billow out. Once it had cleared, Harry was treated to the familiar view of the money that his parents had left him for school. He stepped inside and quickly scooped up a good amount of coins into a small leather pouch; he only needed enough for his school supplies right now.

Once that was done, he and the goblin got back into the cart again. The goblin turned to him with an expectant look on his face.

"Where to next, Mr. Potter?"

"Hmm," Harry paused in thought. "The main Potter family vault." He hadn't seen it yet, even when he was older—there just hadn't been time, or really a need, especially since he and his friends had been wanted by the government.

The goblin nodded in acquiescence. "Next stop, vault 419."

And with that the cart was off again, racing at speeds that made Harry's eyes sting when he tried to keep them open. The trip down to the vault took quite a while longer than it took to get to Harry's trust vault—nearly twice as long, in fact. Along the way they passed through the Thief's Downfall which, to Harry's immense relief, they passed without any problems. Unlike the last time Harry had gone through, it was not a painful experience, but rather felt as though he was only passing through mist.

By the time that they reached the vault, Harry was no longer sure just how deep they were underground, though he believed that they weren't quite as deep as Bellatrix's vault. Similarly to Bellatrix's vault, however, the area outside of the vault consisted on a small platform, which led into a large cavern containing a dragon.

This dragon was a fair bit smaller than the one guarding Bellatrix's vault, though it still looked quite menacing. It was covered in deep crimson scales, with a golden underbelly. _How...Gryffindor_, Harry couldn't help but think with an amused grin. It'd been said that Potter's had always been in Gryffindor house and now, seeing the red and gold dragon guarding their family vault, Harry was starting to think that that rumor had had a fair bit of credence. This dragon didn't appear to be quite as blind as the other one that Harry had seen, but it too had numerous scars on its face from where it'd been hit and was chained down by heavy cuffs.

As they entered the cavern, the goblin pulled out a pair of Clankers—the small instruments that the dragons had learned to associate with pain—from a bag that he'd brought with him. Holding one in each hand the goblin began to shake them, causing a sound similar to that of hammers on anvils to echo through the area. Instantly, the dragon retreated away into a corner.

The goblin put the Clankers away and then stretched a hand to the large wooden door in front of them. Almost as soon as he pressed his palm to the wood, the door appeared to melt away, revealing a large, cave-like opening that was just a little bit bigger than Bellatrix's vault.

The vault was filled with innumerous piles of gold, armor, weapons, and countless other objects. Harry was strongly reminded of Bellatrix's vault, though this one held nothing gruesome—like the skull he'd seen—beyond the odd animal pelt.

As the door reappeared behind Harry and the goblin, Harry found that the room was lit by a soft glow that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, instead of being plunged into complete darkness. This made sense to Harry—wizards would definitely not appreciate having to hunt around in the darkness each time they came down to their vaults. He guessed that the darkness that had occurred when he, Ron, Hermione, and Griphook had snuck into Bellatrix's vault had been a precaution against thieves.

Harry spent a couple of minutes poking around the vault, mostly just taking a look at what was there. None of the armor or weapons looked to be very useful, even the ones that had anti-rusting charms on them. He also came across a small collection of portraits of different people who look quite a bit like him, except for the eyes. Harry assumed that they were his ancestors. He admired them for a minute before moving on.

After about ten minutes, Harry began to get bored, having not found anything much of any interest. Just as he began to make his way back toward the door, however, something caught the corner of his eye, and he turned around to investigate.

As he approached, Harry found that the object that had caught his attention was a glimmering silver necklace hanging off a nearby shelf. Harry reached a hand out to pull it from its place, but as he did so he suddenly slipped on the coins beneath his feet and stumbled forward, slamming his outstretched hand on a dagger resting nearby. Harry instantly hissed in pain and pulled his hand back toward him, cradling the injured appendage against his chest.

It was what happened next however that caused Harry to gasp in shock: Before his very eyes, the wound began to close, the blood receding back into the cut. After only a few seconds the gash had completely disappeared and his hand looked as though it had never been cut in the first place.

"Mr. Potter, are you alright?" Harry suddenly heard the goblin call out from closer to the door.

"Fine!" Harry called out in reply. He glanced back down at his unmarked hand, still shaking from what he'd just witnessed. _It just wasn't possible._ Thoughts were swirling around in his mind faster than he could keep track of and eventually he had to shake his head and block them out, just to prevent himself from going insane. He'd think more about it later, when he had the time. Harry put his hand back down and turned his attention back onto the necklace.

Being extra careful this time, Harry approached the necklace and picked it up. It was made out of a silvery material, he noticed, though for some reason he didn't think that it was actually silver. The pendant itself was an intricate Celtic design with some sort of a shapeless creature in the middle made out of a black stone. Harry squinted at it and brought it closer to his face, trying to make out what it was, but for the life of him he couldn't figure it out. After a moment Harry lowered it and shrugged; though it was strange to see such a thing in the Potter vault, it didn't matter much.

Harry moved to put the necklace down, but at the last moment something stopped him. For some reason it felt...wrong...to put it back. Not the Horcrux-possession sort of wrong, but more like he was doing something bad just by putting it back in its place. Harry stared at the pendant for another moment before finally sighing and relenting. In a quick motion he slipped it over his head and then tucked it beneath his shirt.

With a single backward glance, Harry turned around and began to make his way out of the vault.

* * *

After Harry had left the Potter family vault, it hadn't taken long to reach Bellatrix's vault. It had looked exactly the same as the last time that Harry'd been there, though the dragon guarding it didn't look quite so worn.

Fortunately, this time the items of the vault didn't have Gemino and Flagerante curses on them and Harry knew exactly where the cup was, so he was easily able to make a beeline for it and then pull it down.

Harry and the goblin had then gotten back into the cart and were now hurtling toward their next and last destination: The Peverell vault. Harry wanted to see what was in it and he also figured that it'd be the perfect place to leave Hufflepuff's cup until he had a way to destroy it.

It took a while to travel deep into the bowels of Gringotts. By the time that they finally screeched to a halt, Harry was actually beginning to worry about the time; he'd spent a long time in Gringotts already and he still had a _lot_ to do that day.

"Vault 35," the goblin murmured as he exited the cart after Harry. The dark haired boy couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Were they really that far down? His attention was torn from his thoughts though when he noticed that the goblin had not brought the Clankers with him.

"Uh," Harry began, "The Clankers...?"

"They will do no good here," the goblin said simply as he continued on pass the landing point and into the large cavern.

Almost as soon as Harry stepped into the cavern, the necklace he had on began to burn against his skin. Jerking in surprise, Harry quickly gripped it through his shirt. By that time however the burning had already stopped and Harry was left to wonder whether or not he'd even felt it in the first place. Harry hesitated for a moment, unsure, but followed after the goblin anyway.

Inside the cavern was not one, but _two_ massive dragons standing on either side of a large silver door. The dragons had sleek black scales with dark, gleaming eyes that sent shivers down Harry spine. They were also larger than any dragon Harry had ever seen. He guessed that they were nearly twice the size of the Hungarian Horntail that he'd had to fight in his fourth year, and he'd heard before that Hungarian Horntail's were supposed to be the largest dragons in existence. Harry also noted with no small amount of trepidation that they didn't have the scars that the other dragons in Gringotts did and weren't even chained down to the floor.

With a gulp, Harry stopped next to the goblin, who was in the entrance to cavern with a similarly wary look on his face.

"Mortem Dragons," the goblin told Harry quietly. "Supposedly the last ones in existence. I'd heard rumors that there was a pair at Gringotts, but hadn't honestly believed..." The goblin took a deep breath. "You will have to go alone from here—they will allow no one but the owner of the vault to approach them."

"But the door—" Harry started, holding back the urge to point as if the goblin could not see them.

"—Will only open for the vault's owner. Even we goblins can't open the older vaults. It's an added security precaution."

Harry eyed the goblin warily. Go up to those dragons? "Mortem Dragons"? Even if he'd never heard of such a breed before, he knew that they weren't good news just from that kind of name. Offhandedly, Harry couldn't keep from wondering if this was a trap—his experience with goblins had shown that they _definitely_ weren't to be trusted—but quickly discarded the idea. No matter how untrustworthy they were, they were always careful with their customers and wouldn't gain anything from getting a client, particularly one that was the heir to three houses, killed.

As soon as Harry began to approach, the Mortem Dragons began to growl. It was a loud, terrifying sound the reverberated off the cavern walls. At the same time they peeled back their lips in identical snarls, revealing pearly white fangs nearly as long as Harry was tall. Maybe backing would be a good idea right about now…

Almost as quick as their growling had started however, it stopped. The noise just cut off abruptly as the two Death Dragons stared at Harry and then they smoothly moved down into what Harry could only describe as a bow. After a moment like that, they moved back up into sitting position and proceeded to sit motionless, like living statues, on either side of the vault door.

Harry eyed the two for a moment, making sure that they weren't going to suddenly attack, and then continued toward the door.

The vault door, Harry found, was made out some sort of silver metal. Harry thought that it might even be the same metal as his necklace, but he couldn't be sure, and for some reason didn't want to pull it out to check. Harry paused in front of the door and then hesitantly placed a hand on it like he'd seen the goblins do.

Unlike when the goblins opened the vaults however, the door didn't simply disappear. Instead it seemed to disperse into a black shadow, which remained over the door, not allowing anyone to see inside. Acting upon a whim, Harry pressed his hand to the shadowy darkness, and then gasped in surprise when it passed right through as though nothing was there.

Confident now, Harry stepped through the shadowy barrier.

The vault on the other side of the barrier was both similar and dissimilar to the other family vaults that Harry had been in. It didn't hold nearly as much gold as the others, but instead was far larger—nearly twice the size, Harry would venture to say. It also held an uncountable amount of other objects, which nearly completely filled the immense space.

Everything that Harry could have thought of was there. Weapons, armor, jewelry, raw jewels, magical objects, Muggle objects, statues, carpets, paintings, sculptures, books—countless bookcases full of them—and so much more. Harry even saw a bunch of potions, most of which he couldn't recognize, held under what appeared to be a very powerful stasis spell.

As Harry moved further into the vault, he glanced back over his shoulder at the vault's entrance way. The shadowy barrier was still there, and he couldn't see through to the other side.

Harry turned his attention back onto the Peverell vault as he began walking around. He couldn't help but marvel at all of the objects held there. The vault may not have contained much gold, but the worth of the objects there was probably far more than the gold in the Potter family vault and Bellatrix's vault combined—Harry was sure that he even saw what appeared to be some masterpieces of art!

It was among those very paintings that Harry gained his second great shock of the day. At first it appeared to be just a simple portrait of two men—nothing special; there were many others like it—but a double take caused Harry to let out a gasp.

The man in the painting was himself.

Harry took a few steps toward the painting, not quite believing what he was seeing, but it was true—down to the shape of his face, the man appeared to be his carbon copy.

After a moment however, as the initial shock began to wear off, Harry began to notice several slight differences. First and foremost, the man in the picture appeared to be in his late twenties, which Harry was not, even before he'd been sent to the past. On top of that he did not wear glasses and only one of his eyes was the same green color as Harry's, while the other, the right one, was blue.

Harry's eyes drifted down to the bottom of the painting's frame, where there was a small plaque with an engraved inscription. It read: Ignotus Peverell.

Harry's mouth opened once more in shock. So _this_ was his ancestor? The original owner of the invisibility cloak? Harry really couldn't believe how much he looked like him.

One thing that did confuse Harry was why there was only one name on the plaque, while there were two people in the portrait. He knew for sure that his clone was Ignotus, but the other...

The second man was ancient looking. He had wrinkled skin that was dotted with age spots and had wispy white hair that barely covered his balding head. It was the man's shining, silvery eyes though that gave Harry pause. He had _seen_ them before, somewhere. But that was impossible, right? The painting must have been nearly a thousand years old!

It was the shifting of coins beneath Harry's feet that woke him from his reverie. With a sigh, the young wizard stepped back from the painting and began to once again move deeper into the vault after only a single glance backward.

After a couple of minutes, Harry came to a stop in roughly the middle of the vault in front of an old mahogany desk. Despite the wood's age, it still looked quite strong. Harry had little doubt that it was probably because of a stasis spell. Hell, the whole _vault_ was probably under a stasis spell, all things considered. The top of the desk was empty, giving Harry a perfect idea: Since the desk was in the center of the large vault it could not be seen from the entrance, but at the same time was in an area that Harry had easy access to, it seemed to Harry to be the perfect place to keep the Horcruxes.

With a smirk, Harry set the cup that he'd been carrying around in the middle of the desk. With any luck, tomorrow he'd also have Slytherin's locket and the Gaunt ring to add to the collection.

His task done, Harry spun on his heel to began to make his way out of the vault, but abruptly froze: Standing there, previously hidden behind a large statue, was a pedestal. And on that pedestal was what Harry knew could be nothing other than a pensieve.

This pensieve, however, was quite unlike the one that Dumbledore owned. It was larger, for one, though granted not by too much. It was also made out of a black stone with a white stone inlay on the inside, creating a beautiful, intricate pattern. Harry couldn't help but stare in awe as he stood in front of it—it was like nothing that he'd seen before.

All appearances aside, the instant Harry had realized what the object was—and thus what he now owned—plans began to formulate in his mind. This was _perfect_. He couldn't believe that he'd never thought of this before. Now that he had this pensieve he could go back through all the memories of his last seven years. Then, with that extra, sharpened knowledge, he could plan exactly how to win this war.

Harry's current memories of his earlier years at Hogwarts were hazy at best in general, partly because it had been so long ago for him, and partly because he'd been young at the time. Now, with this pensieve, he could completely remedy that situation. Harry begun to wish that he'd come back to the wizarding world sooner, though he knew that that was impossible because Dumbledore most likely would have immediately picked up on his departure.

Harry was tempted to pick up the pensieve and bring it with him right then and there, but he knew better than to do so. Walking around with a pensieve—particularly one like _that_—was stupid at best, and he didn't even have his wand yet. No, Harry would come back for it later—either that night or the next day; whenever he had time.

With a grin on his face and a bounce on his step, Harry left the Peverell vault.

* * *

The ride back up to ground level would take nearly a half an hour. Harry knew this. The goblin knew this. Thus, Harry took this ample time to ask some of the questions that'd been nagging at the back of his mind for while that he knew the goblin could answer.

"What are the different security levels?" Harry started off by asking. "I noticed how the deeper we got, the better the security got."

The goblin took a measured glance at Harry. He waited for a moment before finally answering in a slow voice.

"The vaults above 1000 are all regular vaults with average to high security, depending on the vault and not the depth," he answered, his face pinched in a way that told Harry that he did not enjoy this 20 questions game. "Vaults 1000 and below are the maximum security vaults that require a goblin to open. Vaults 500 and below are the ones with dragon guardians. These generally belong to old families. Vaults 50 and below are the oldest vaults. Only the owners of these vaults can enter them."

Once he was finished with his succinct explanation, the goblin closed his mouth with a click of his teeth and said nothing more as he turned away. Harry fell into silence as well, mulling over this new information. For some reason he had a feeling that the goblin wouldn't have even said as much as he had had Harry not been one of the owner's of one of those "oldest vaults".

Several minutes later, Harry finally spoke up again, this time in a quieter tone, voicing the question that had actually been bothering him for a while.

"The Ministry of Magic..." Harry paused, unsure of how to continue for a moment. "...Does the Ministry know about the different families that I'm the heir too?"

Without looking at him, the goblin replied, "Lord." At Harry's confused glance, he elaborated. "Due to your age..."—the goblin cast a sidelong glance at him—"...You are now the Lord of all the families that you were heir to. And to answer your question, the moment you became aware of your blood heir status, so did the Ministry of Magic. They remain unaware of _you_, Harry Potter, are Lord Black and Lord Peverell however, just that there _is_ a Lord Peverell-Black."

A slight smile came onto Harry's face, though he quickly hid it. That was very good; he hadn't been sure how he'd be able to explain how he became the magical heir of the Black family to the Ministry.

The rest of the trip passed in silence between Harry and the goblin. Before they knew it, it was over and the two were stepping out of the cart and onto the main platform. Harry stopped just in front of the door that led to the main hall however, and turned to look at the goblin.

"By the way," Harry said, attempting to sound casual. "Please pass a message onto Ragnok for me."

The goblin gave Harry a _look_, and the dark haired wizard had to smirk in reply; he knew perfectly well what the goblin was thinking. After all, Ragnok _was_ the head Goblin chieftain and he had very little time for wizards. Harry could remember how desperately Bill had been trying to convince him to side with the Order of the Phoenix during the Second War with Voldemort.

"Tell him," Harry continued, beginning to step towards the door, "That I would like to set up a meeting to speak with him about the location of Gryffindor's sword..."

Even with his back turned, Harry could feel the sudden shock radiating off the goblin, and couldn't repress the grin that flew to his face as the slipped out the doors.

* * *

After exiting Gringotts, Harry began to make his way down Diagon Alley, wondering where to begin his shopping. Passing by Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, he decided that he might as well start there.

Upon stepping into the store, Harry was immediately met by Madam Malkin, a short, squat witch with a pleasant smiling face.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said before Harry could even open his mouth to speak. "Got the lot here—another young man being fitted up just now, in fact." Harry blinked in surprise, but then figured that there were probably quite a lot of people here today that were doing last minute shopping.

In the back room of the shop, however, Harry found that the boy standing on a footstool was someone that he definitely recognized: Draco Malfoy. But that didn't make any sense—Harry remembered meeting him here in the past, but that had been on July 31st, not August 30th.

Harry squashed down the instant feelings of dislike that rose to the surface on the very sight of the boy. At the same time, memories flashed through his head of the events of the last year or so. Dumbledore's death was first and foremost in this, but also was the way that Draco had changed sides in the end. Honestly, without his help—however unwilling or unintentional it may have been at times—Harry may not have been able to destroy all of the Horcruxes, particularly Ravenclaw's diadem. ...Even if Draco really didn't mean to help at that time.

Hiding the frown on his face, Harry stepped up next to the boy. Perhaps if he could make an impression on the boy, change his views while he was young...

"Hello," Draco said politely, "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," he started of blandly.

"I'm already done with all my shopping, but there was a mix-up with my robes," Draco said while making a face. Ah, Harry thought, that explained why he was here.

"Do you play Quidditch?" Malfoy asked after a moment.

"No,"—that part was a blatant lie, but the boy didn't know any better, and technically, it was partly true in reference to the timeline—"Though I'm looking forward to playing." How true _that_ was.

"Have you got a broom?"

"Not yet—I'm waiting. I have on good authority that a particularly good broom will be coming out in a few months time."

Malfoy instantly looked interested. "Oh?" he said. "And what house do you think you'll be in?"

Harry shrugged. Honestly, he wasn't sure. The sorting hat had said that it had been a difficult decision to begin with and now, with all of the things that he'd been through...

"I don't know."

Malfoy nodded. "Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they? I think that I'll be in Slytherin though, all our family have been—imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Not at all," Harry interjected smoothly. "Hard work and patience hardly sound like bad traits to me. If anything, they're quite useful."

Harry expected Malfoy to instantly rebuff his words. To his great surprise however, the blonde haired boy did no such thing. Rather, he actually seemed to be _thinking_ about what Harry had said.

"Hmm, perhaps," Malfoy hummed after a moment. "But still..." Malfoy's eyes met Harry's and for a moment the two of them just stared, each sizing up the other.

"I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," Malfoy said, holding out a hand toward Harry. Harry hesitated for a second; this was the deciding moment. There was no going back after this.

Harry reached out and grasped Malfoy's hand.

"I'm Harry Potter."

Instantly, Malfoy went slack jawed and his gaze shot up to where Harry's scar was hidden by his hair. He continued to stare in shock for a moment before finally gathering up his composure once more.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you," Malfoy said.

Harry let out a low chuckle. "Likewise."

"Did you..." Malfoy began, but hesitated. "Were you really raised by Muggles like they say?"

Harry's expression froze. "Yes," he said coolly. He desperately hoped that Malfoy wouldn't judge him off of that so quickly—he was hoping that the boy hadn't been so set in his condescending ways so soon.

To Harry's surprise however, the boy just made a sympathetic sound. "That must have been _dreadful_," he said. "I can't even imagine. I don't even think that they should let the other sort into Hogwarts, do you? I think that they should keep it in the old wizarding families."

Harry couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Malfoy. "You do realize that my mother was a Muggleborn, right?"

Almost instantly, Malfoy colored deeply and began stammering. It was amusing to Harry how easily the boy was starting to lose his composure around him.

"And besides," Harry continued, not giving Malfoy a chance to speak, "I've never been able to understand the discrimination against Muggleborns. I mean, what does it matter what their heritage is so long as they're talented? It's like disliking someone just because they have blue eyes. Say, for example, a Muggleborn witch is incredibly talented and invents a slew of new spells. Would you honestly not use any of those spells just because of the _heritage_ of their inventor? And if it's their lack of knowledge about the wizarding world that's bothering you, then why doesn't Hogwarts have classes on wizarding culture? They have one on Muggles after all..."

Once again Malfoy was surprised into speechlessness. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times as his mind processed what Harry had said. Finally, he settled on a contemplative look. Obviously, with his father being who he was, Malfoy had never considered such a perspective before.

At that moment, as the two of them stood in silence, someone suddenly entered from the front. Madam Malkin, who'd been working busily around Harry's robes, looked up in surprise. Said surprise only increased when she saw that the newcomer was a goblin wearing the uniform of Gringotts.

Madam Malkin opened her mouth to question that goblin, but he swept past her before she could do so. The goblin stopped before Harry and lowered into a bow.

"Lord Potter," he said by way of greeting. Harry could feel shock radiating off everyone in the room at the title. The goblin held out a sealed envelope. "I was instructed by Ragnok to give you this." As soon as Harry took the letter, the goblin turned on his heel and left.

For a moment Harry stared at the letter in his hands. He hadn't honestly expected Ragnok to reply to him so quickly. He contemplated opening the letter right then and there but, feeling Malfoy's questioning gaze boring into his back, he decided against doing so. He'd have more than enough time later.

The rest of Harry's time in the robe shop was spent in silence. Finally, Madam Malkin shakily announced that she was done. She'd had more than a few shocks that day.

"Should I pay you now, or...?" Harry asked.

"Oh, no, dear," the witch replied. "You can pay when you come by to pick them up. They should be done in about an hour or so." Harry nodded his thanks and then, with a final goodbye to Malfoy, swept out of the shop.

As he stepped back onto Diagon Alley, Harry pulled his school list out of his pocket and glanced it over. He had his uniform now, so all that he needed was his books, his trunk, the other equipment, and, of course, his wand. After a moment's thought, he decided on getting his trunk first so that'd he'd have a place to put the things he'd buy.

The trunk store was surprisingly not anywhere near as crowded as it'd been when Harry'd been there last. As a matter of fact, Harry was the only customer there at the moment.

"What can I do for you?" asked the storekeeper. "Do you need a trunk for Hogwarts? I've got a whole batch still left."

"Ah, yes please," Harry replied. "Although...I'm looking for one with particularly strong magic-resistant locks. Do you have anything like that?"

The storekeeper chuckled. "Oh, don't worry my boy—you won't need anything like that at Hogwarts." Under Harry's unrelenting stare however, his grin slowly faded. "Fine," he grumbled. "It's your money."

The shopkeeper turned around and began to head toward the back of the store.

"Come," the man bid. "I have some strong trunks back here."

Harry followed the man to the back of the store where the trunks did indeed appear to be stronger. The storekeeper stopped in front of the back wall and rested his hand upon what appeared to be a simple wooden trunk, not much larger than Harry's previous school one.

"This," the man began, "Is a fairly simple appearing trunk. However,"—he tapped what appeared to be a solid piece of metal that was over where the lock should have been—"Its lock is one of the strongest available. The lock is made out of pure magic-enhanced silver. It is impervious to all currently known unlocking spells, from the weakest to the most powerful. It's unbreakable and just generally spelled to be able to be opened only by the owner. The wood is also enchanted to be unbreakable and there's a permanent feather-light charm on the trunk."

Harry looked at the mulling over whether or not to get it. Finally, he nodded.

"Alright," Harry said. "That'll do."

The storekeeper looked surprised—obviously he hadn't actually expected Harry to buy such a trunk.

"Er, right..." he said, "But just to warn you, once you officially own the trunk you will not be able to return it, nor will anyone else be able to open it." At Harry's accepting nod he continued. "The price of the trunk is 57 galleons."

This time Harry did raise his eyebrows at such a price. Considering how many enchantments were on the wood and lock though, it made sense. So, Harry reached into his money bag and then handed over the correct amount. The storekeeper almost looked gleefully at the idea of actually making such a sale.

"Alright," the man said, sounding much brighter as he pocketed the money, "Please just place you thumb on the latch and I'll perform the ownership transference charm."

Once Harry had placed his thumb to the cool metal, the storekeeper pulled out his wand. He began murmuring incantations under his breath, waving his wand in a complicated pattern as he did so. Finally, he tapped Harry's thumb gently with the tip of his wand.

As soon as the wand made contact, Harry felt a shiver run through him, signifying the magic that was taking place.

"Well, that's done. Now whenever you want to open the trunk, simply press your thumb to the lock."

Harry nodded and withdrew his hand. This was good; no one would be able to break into trunk now, not even Dumbledore. Of course Harry didn't honestly expect anyone to try break into his trunk, but he figured that it'd be better to be safe than sorry. And so, lifting the trunk with one hand, Harry left the shop.

The rest of Harry's shopping passed by quite quickly. Before Harry knew it he'd already bought all of his needed parchment, quills, and ink, including a bottle of Self-Correcting ink that'd caught his eye. Harry had also bought the required telescope, cauldron, crystal phials, brass scales, and telescope, as well as a lunascope, which showed the phases of the moons.

A glance down at his list showed that Harry only had his potions ingredients and books left on his equipment list left. Harry began to head off toward the Apothecary, when he suddenly realized that he was standing outside of Flourish and Blotts. With a shrug, Harry went inside.

Harry must have spent nearly a half an hour inside the book store. It took only a minute to get his required school books, but after that Harry wandered around the store, picking up any books that looked as though they'd be able to help him.

Some of these books included the basic books for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes—both of which Harry decided that he'd take this time around—_Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charms_, _A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_, _The Dark Arts Outsmarted_, _Nature's Nobility_, _Important Modern Magical Discoveries_, _Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions_, _Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration_, and so many more. By the time Harry was done, he had nearly twenties books.

Harry smiled when he thought of what Hermione would say if she saw him with so many books. Harry had never really been one for studying and reading before, but war had changed him. And if he didn't do something, it was going to change _everyone_.

Once Harry had purchased all of his selections—many of which caused the owner to stare strangely at him—he put them all away in his trunk, which was beginning to get fairly full. Then he headed down the street toward the Apothecary.

The inside the Apothecary was just as strange, fascinating, and smelly as it was every time Harry visited. The first thing that Harry did was ask the man at the counter for a supply of basic potion ingredients. Once they were purchased and put away, he turned to leave, but something stopped him. Instead, the young wizard began to head deeper into the store, glancing at the different jars around him as he did so.

Harry was just rounding the corner of an isle when he suddenly bumped into someone walking toward him. With a gasp, Harry reflexively reached out a hand and caught a jar that fell from the shelf next to him.

A sheepish look on his face, Harry looked up at the person he'd bumped into, only to freeze.

Standing looming above him with a sour look on his face was none other than Severus Snape.

* * *

A/N: The above mentioned books are all canon. You can look them up on HP-Lexicon.

Thanks for all your reviews for the last chapter! Much appreciated. The next chapter should be out in a week—that's the schedule I'm going to attempt to keep, though the exact day might vary.

[Shi]


	5. Chapter IV: The Professor

Summary: Harry Potter is just an eccentric school boy with some unusual talents. Lord Peverell-Black, on the other hand, is a magically and politically powerful man with the world at his fingertips and a war at his doorstep. [Time travel, no pairings.]

* * *

Shards of Time: The Master of Death

Chapter IV_  
The Professor_

* * *

_"Life is like a book waiting for you to write it." - unknown_

For several moments Harry could do nothing but stare up at Snape in shock, his blood pumping through his veins. All that was running through his head was memories of the man's painful death.

Snape had been the first person that Harry had seen die not from the instant death of the killing curse but from other, slower means. It'd left a mark on him, no matter how much he'd hated the man. The fact that later Harry had found out the reasons for Snape's actions only increased this.

Harry quickly became aware that he was staring and shifted his eyes onto the jar in his hands, which he then placed back on its shelf. Already, ideas were beginning to run through his head. Harry was one of very few people who knew what side Snape was actually on and for what reasons. If he could somehow get into Snape's favor...

"Watch where you're going boy," Snape snapped.

Harry gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry, sir," he said. "I guess I was just too distracted..."

Snape rolled his eyes. "This is an Apothecary, not a playground to stare at things."

"Oh, that's not it at all, sir!" Harry replied, adding a tone of excitement to his voice. "It was just distracted by thinking of potions. It's just the _idea_ that you could mix several completely unrelated ingredients and get the results that you can..." Harry made a sweeping gesture with his hands while doing his best to look abashed. "It's just such an incredibly fascinating idea." And it was, Harry couldn't help but think, though he was mostly just playing up to his professor's love of potions.

Snape was staring at Harry. It wasn't the way that he usually glared at him though, Harry noticed. Rather, it was as if he was studying him, assessing him. Finally, after a moment of tense silence, Snape smirked.

"Yes," he drawled slowly. "It is a fascinating art, isn't it? You'll learn even more about it's...delicates...at Hogwarts. I assume that you'll be starting this year?" Harry nodded his head rapidly in reply and Snape's smirk widened. "Then I suppose I'll see you there; I'm the potions professor."

Harry let out a surprised gasp. "Really?" he asked excitedly. "What potions will we be learning? Are there specific methods that are used? Should I bring any extra equipment?"

Snape blinked in surprise as Harry rattled off questions. Clearly he hadn't expected such a reaction, even with the interest that Harry had been showing in potions.

"You'll do fine with what was on your list. And if there's really anything else that you need...I have more than anything you'd need in my storeroom, including ingredients."

Harry grinned widely. "Thank you sir!" he said. Feeling that he'd hung around long enough, he began to turn away. "I'd better get going now, but thank you for your tips. I'm looking forward to potions class."

Harry began to hurry off, but Snape's voice stopped him.

"Boy," Snape quickly said. "What's your name? I think that you'd do well in my house."

Harry smile brightly up at the man. "Harry Potter!" he said before quickly disappearing down the aisle, leaving a shell-shocked Snape behind.

He didn't stop running until he was well out of the Apothecary and down the Alley. He didn't know how Snape would have reacted had he stayed around, and he didn't want to find out. Finally Harry slowed to a walk, a slight smile on his face. It was interesting, dealing with the potions master again. He could only hope that perhaps this time around the man wouldn't hate him so much.

After a minute walking, Harry came across Ollivander's. The store was narrow and shabby with peeling gold letters over the door that read: _Ollivander's: Maker of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. _A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. With a strange feeling of trepidation, Harry entered.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as he stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair. Harry could feel the heavy, ancient feeling that was permeating the place resting on his shoulders, causing him to fall completely silent

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped, despite the fact that he'd been expecting it.

Ollivander was standing behind the long counter now, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," Harry said awkwardly. He was starting to feel like he really was eleven again and in the shop for his first time.

"Ah yes," Mr. Ollivander said. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were more than a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it-it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes. Then the elderly man raised a hand.

"And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger, just as he had last time. This time, however, as soon as his finger touched Harry's skin, Ollivander abruptly jerked back, as if he'd been shocked. He shook his head mutely as if clearing something out. When he looked back up at Harry, he gave him a long, measuring look.

"Well, now-Mr. Potter. Let me see," he continued after a moment, as if nothing had happened. "Which is your wand arm?" At the same time he pulled out a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket.

"Right," Harry replied shortly. He was starting to feel quite strange in this shop. Even though nearly everything happened in the same way as before, it somehow seemed as though everything had changed with a single touch—even if it hadn't.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He began to measure Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and round his head. As he measured he didn't speak, and after just a moment he retreated between the nearby shelves, leaving the tape measure to do its work by itself.

After taking down several boxes, he finally said, "That will do." Instantly the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beachwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and, knowing that he'd get no results, waved it around it bit. It took a good chunk of his self control not to wave it around in the pattern for a spell-that would be incredibly suspicious-but he managed it. Of course there was indeed no reaction from the wand and it was quickly snatched out of his hand by Ollivander and just as quickly replaced by another.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try-"

Harry had hardly raised his hand this time when the wand was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no—here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried. And tried. Before long a pile of tried wands began mounting, getting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands that Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"A tricky one, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere-I wonder, now—yes, why not—unusual combination—holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

With a deep breath Harry took the wand. As soon as his hands grasped a hold of the familiar wand, _his_ wand, he prepared for the sudden warmth that he knew accompanied holding your wand for the first time, but it never came. Sparks shot out of the wand, showing its reaction to him, but there was no warmth. It was his wand, but at the same time, it wasn't.

"Curious...curious..." Ollivander murmured, staring at the wand. Harry stared at the wand too. What had happened?

Harry let out a breath and asked the question that he knew would spark Ollivander's explanation of the wand, as it had last time.

"Sorry," Harry said, "But _what's_ curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. "It would seem, Mr. Potter that you already have a wand that has unquestionably chosen you as its owner. Yet, at the same time, this wand has chosen you as well. This is has _never_ happened before."

Harry's thoughts froze. How was that possible? He owned another wand...? Suddenly, inexplicably, Harry's thoughts turned to the Elder Wand. When he had "died" he had been the owner of the Elder Wand. Had that ownership somehow transferred over to the past? It seemed impossible...But it also was the only thing that made sense.

"On top of that," Ollivander continued, breaking Harry from his thoughts. "The Trace on you magic has apparently been deactivated, which should also be impossible since that can only happen when one turns seventeen."

Half turned away from Mr. Ollivander, Harry froze once more. No way; that couldn't be true. And yet, it made complete sense, especially since the Blood Parchment in Gringotts had said that he was 18. It was as if his past, was also the past here…with everything happening to him as he continued to grow with his real age.

As these thoughts ran through Harry's mind, the implications of what Ollivander was saying suddenly hit him. The Trace was already gone. The Ministry couldn't track his magic. He could do magic whenever he wanted. He was unrestricted.

"I do believe that we can expect great things, Mr. Potter," Ollivander suddenly said. "Though exactly what those things are will be is entirely up to you."

As Harry left Ollivander's, he couldn't repress the large small that came to his face, brought on by the immense feeling of freedom that he had at the moment. The entire world was opened before him—he could do anything he wanted and no one would be the wiser. Harry hadn't felt this good since the first time he'd been told that he was a wizard.

Harry walked along with a bounce in his step toward his next and last destination: Eeylops Owl Emporium.

The inside of the shop was just as dimly lit as ever, and was filled with tawny, screech, barn, brown, and snowy owls. For a moment, as Harry stood inside the shop, he felt a sudden fear grip his heart like the icy cold hand of a dementor. _He couldn't see Hedwig_. What if someone had already bought her? What if he was too late?

Harry's qualms were all for naught however, as just a moment later he spotted a familiar cage hidden in a gloomy corner of the store. Harry let out a soft sigh of relief as he approached the cage, his gaze glued to Hedwig's form.

Even though it had already been nearly a year for him, he could still clearly remember Hedwig's death. And it still tore him a part inside—after all, she had been his first real friend. Harry had never thought it'd be possibly for him to have her back, but now he finally did.

"Can I help you, sir?"

Harry turned around to face the shopkeeper, who was standing behind him.

"Yes, I'd like to purchase this owl," he replied while gesturing to Hedwig. The snowy white owl cocked her head at Harry, studying him.

"Of course, sir," said the shopkeeper. She pulled Hedwig's cage down from the hook that it was hanging on and brought it over to the counter. It then only took a minute for Harry to purchase Hedwig, her cage, as well as some treats for her. Once that had been done, Harry exited the shop with Hedwig's cage in one hand and a large smile on his face.

* * *

Once Harry was sure that he'd purchased everything that he currently needed he headed out of Diagon Alley by slipping down an alley between two buildings and Disapparating away. He'd considered staying the night at the Leaky Cauldron but then, remembering the story that he'd told Tom the barkeeper, decided that that was a bad idea.

Instead, Harry headed off toward one of the buildings that he now owned: Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

Harry instantly appeared in front of a grimy black door with a silver knocker in the shape of a twisted serpent situated between numbers eleven and thirteen. At the current time there was no Fidelius on the house, though it was unplottable and, according to Sirius, had every security measure known to wizard-kind on the house.

With a deep breath, Harry silently opened the door, and stepped into the large entrance hall. To Harry's surprise, while it did look a bit dusty and dirty, it was far from the state that it'd been in when Harry had last been there, and that was _after_ they had cleaned it up. Suddenly remembering that Arcturus Black had only died a month or two ago, everything clicked in Harry's mind. Doubtless the house had gone down hill during the five years that it'd been left empty with only Kreacher to look after it, but at the moment it was in a much better state.

Harry tiptoed past Mrs. Black's portrait, though whether it was from habit or truly not wanting to wake her up he wasn't sure. Harry went straight past the stairs and into the drawing room, well away from any spying portraits. Then, once there, he drew his wand and cast a couple of silencing charms and wards-just to be safe. He figured that a year on the run from death eaters had made him more paranoid than he'd like to admit.

Finally, he took in a deep breath, then called out, "Kreacher!"

With a sharp crack, the old house-elf appeared before Harry, a look of pure confusion on his face. He was just as Harry remembered him, with his snout-like nose and floppy, wrinkled ears, though his outfit looked less like a rag and more like a pillowcase.

As he stared down at the elder elf, Harry's previous memories of him came rushing back, particularly the ones of the past year...Er, rather, seven years in the future. The elf had turned into such a helpful companion after he'd warmed up to Ron, Hermione, and himself. If he could get the elf to like him again, right off the bat, it would help so much. Not to mention that he'd actually begun to truly like the older creature—in a way.

"Master?" Kreacher croaked out in his bullfrog voice. His face was twisted into an expression of intense confusion. He couldn't figure out how someone whom he'd never even seen before had been able to call him.

"Yes," Harry said regally, "I am the new lord of House Black."

Kreacher's continued to stare for a moment before his expression melted into a fierce glare.

"You can't be Master!" he hissed. After only just a moment however his face was confused once more instead of angry as he gasped out, "Y-you..."

Harry's face softened. He'd forgotten how extreme Kreacher's mood swings could be.

"I am," he told the house-elf quietly. "I'm the magical heir of House Black. That's why you've never met me before." He let out a sigh. "It...It's a long and complicated story. Please don't ask."

Kreacher hesitated, blinking large eyes, and then nodded, accepting his new master's order.

Harry smiled lightly down at Kreacher. "I'm Harry and, as I just said, I'm the new lord, despite my age. I'll be spending the next few days here before I have to go to Hogwarts." Harry paused. "Arcturus Black just died recently, correct?"

Kreacher let out a low wail. "Yes," he replied, sniffling. "Master Black passed in June. Poor Kreacher, all alone, all alone."

"Er, yes, well, I'm here now," Harry started, hoping to calm the slightly loopy house-elf.

Harry was shocked to see the elf smile brightly up at him in response. He hadn't realized just how much five years of solitude and bitterness must have changed the elf. He seemed like a completely different being now. All the better for him.

"Ah, Kreacher, there's one other thing that I'd like to talk to you about..."

Harry hesitated, unsure on how to continue. Finally, after a moment, an idea popped into his mind.

"Turn around to face the door for a moment, Kreacher," Harry instructed. "I have a surprise."

Suspicious and yet at the same time excited, Kreacher did so bouncing back and forth as he turned, covering his eyes. Once he was fully facing the other direction, Harry grinned widely. He pulled out his wand and cast _Muffilato_ on Kreacher so that the elf wouldn't be able to hear anything that was going on in the room.

Once that was done, Harry nearly sprinted over to the large cabinet that was behind him. He fumbled around in it for a moment, before he came across what he was looking for: A familiar heavy golden locket.

Harry couldn't help but grimace as he held it in his hand. It was almost hard to believe that this little piece of jewelry was a Horcrux, that it held a piece of Voldemort's _soul_. But it did.

Quietly, Harry pointed his wand at the necklace and murmured, "_Geminio_."

Instantaneously, a second necklace, an exact copy of the first popped into existence. Harry tucked the first necklace away and then turned back around and approached Kreacher with the copy in his hands.

"Kreacher," he murmured after removing the silencing spells. Questioningly, the elf turned around, only to freeze in shock upon seeing the necklace grasped in Harry's outstretched fist.

"I know about what happened with Regulus Black," Harry said after taking a deep breath. He paused for a moment after seeing tears well up in Kreacher's eyes at the very mention of his deceased master's name, but pushed on anyway. "I won't ask you for details, because I know that the whole ordeal must be rather painful. I know that you have tried to destroy the necklace, but have been unable to do so. Instead, in the meantime, I'd like you take the necklace. To, er, protect it. It's the next best thing to destroying it, right? I'm sure that it's what Regulus would have wanted..."

For several long moments Kreacher stood frozen in place in shock. His wide eyes and quick breathing were the only signs that he'd even really heard what Harry had said. Quite suddenly however, the old house-elf burst into hysterical tears. He began blubbering and clutching at Harry's pants while the young wizard just stood, not knowing how to react.

It took the elf several minutes to fully calm down. Once he had, he stood in front of Harry, staring up at him with wide eyes while clutching the heavy locket to his chest.

"Kreacher thanks Master Black," the elf wheezed out. "Regulus would have loved Master Black, yes he would."

"Um, thanks, Kreacher," Harry said hesitantly. "And please call me Harry; that's my name. Harry Po-... Harry Black-Potter." He figured that that technically _was_ his name now. Or perhaps it was Harry Peverell-Black-Potter.

Kreacher beamed up at Harry. "Of course Master Harry sir!"

Harry sighed. He knew from experience that that was the best that he'd get out of the elf. At least he wasn't calling him _lord_ or anything like that.

* * *

Footsteps echoed through a long, stone hallway as a tall man stalked through. His face remained impassive and his steps were quite stiff. He made his way along silently before finally entering through a doorway at the end of the hall which let to an extravagantly decorated drawing room.

As soon as the man stepped inside, Draco Malfoy jumped up from where he'd been sitting. "Father!" he called out, a smile taking over his face.

The man, Lucius Malfoy, returned the boy's smile, though it was only a fleeting one before his face returned to its impassive state. His posture, however, did relax ever so slightly.

"How was your trip to Diagon Alley?" the elder Malfoy asked as he took off his outer robe and hung it from a nearby rack.

Draco's smile faded into a more contemplative look. Sensing the sudden change in his son's mood, Lucius turned around to face the boy, his eyes narrowing.

"Did something happen while you were there?" he asked, tone darkening.

Draco hesitated, deciding whether or not to tell his father about what had happened. "Well," he started slowly, "When I was getting my robes refitted, another boy came in..."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Who was it?"

"...Harry Potter," Draco admitted. Lucius' eyes widened in surprise, but before he could even open his mouth to say anything, Draco continued on in a rush. "He's really different than I expected. Not at all like someone whose was raised by Muggle_s_, although he admitted that he was. And there's one other thing: When he were talking, a goblin came into the shop and handed him a note. He said it was from Ragnok. But the thing is—he called him _Lord_ Potter!"

Lucius' eyes narrowed to slits. Even the most ignorant of people could tell that his mind was whirling, trying to figure out exactly what this meant.

"It seems," he murmured after a moment, "That Harry Potter is going to be a more interesting figure than we expected..."

* * *

Later that night, Harry laid spread out on a large, comfortable bed. He was currently residing in the master bedroom of the house. He'd wanted to take one of the smaller rooms, but Kreacher had been adamant that as the new lord he should take the master bedroom and, having just gotten onto good footing with the elf, he didn't want to ruin their blooming relationship over something so petty. Besides, the room _was_ very nice.

Almost as soon as Harry had gotten settled in, Kreacher had rushed Harry down into the drawing room, where he'd proceeded to feed Harry lunch. The boy was generally amused by the elf's antics. It seemed that he'd missed having someone to take care of in the few months since Arcturus Black had died.

After a quick lunch, Harry had retreated into the Black Library. He'd never gotten the chance to properly look through it, what with the war and all, and was pleasantly surprised at the number of books there and the variety of subjects that they were on. Only a very small number were actually Dark Arts books. Other than those, there were numerous ones that Harry decided to take with him to Hogwarts.

Once Harry was finished searching through the extensive library he'd retreated back to his new room. There, he'd put away his new books and pulled out some parchment. He'd started on writing a long list of all the spells that he knew, both from classes and those that he'd learned outside of school—mostly from Hermione.

To Harry's great surprise, he found that he knew a lot more spells than he'd guessed. He'd never written them all out before or anything like that, but doing so really helped him to get a grasp on just how much magic he knew.

After he was finished with the list, Harry had set it aside and then had begun to methodically go through all of his first year books, practicing the spells. By the time Six O'clock had rolled around, he'd already gone through all of the first year material and was more than ready for the upcoming year. Harry figured that he'd spend most of his time in Hogwarts learning new, even more advanced material.

And now Harry was lying back on his bed, his books tucked neatly away. Surprisingly, despite all of the things that he'd done that day—had it really only been a day?—Harry wasn't tired. If anything, he was _energized_.

Harry was woken from his thoughts by a sharp crack. He turned his head to the side to stare at Kreacher, whom had just entered the room.

"Master Harry sir," the elf said almost giddily. "Dinner is ready."

Harry blinked slowly, offhandedly studying the changes in the elf from the Kreacher that he'd known. This one was so much...happier, more alive. Hermione had been right in the beginning of their fifth year when she'd said that he wasn't right in the head; years of solitude really _had_ been hard on him.

"Coming, Kreacher," Harry said with a sigh. He rolled off the bed and then followed the house-elf out of the bedroom and down several flights of stairs. Harry couldn't help but grimace as he saw all of the dust that had already collected. It wasn't nearly as bad as it was in the future, but still bad enough.

"Kreacher," Harry called out to the elf in front of him.

Kreacher turned around to stare at Harry with wide eyes. "Yes Master Harry sir?"

"Um, would you mind...cleaning the house up a bit?"

Harry almost regretted his words as instantly a look of horror came across Kreacher's face. "Of course Master Harry sir! It's just that with Master Black's death..." he almost squeaked, rummaging around for an excuse.

Harry had to hold back a chuckle. "It's fine Kreacher, really," he assured the elf. "Just please start to take care of the house now?"

Kreacher nodded his head quickly and for a moment Harry was almost reminded of Dobby.

Harry felt a sharp pain shoot through his chest at the thought of the sock-loving house-elf who had died so valiantly, but he quickly pushed the pain away. Dobby was alive now. He hadn't died yet.

"Ah, also," Harry said, turning his thoughts onto happier subjects, "There's something else I'd like for you to do. When you're not cleaning—and please don't over do it, I don't want you to hurt yourself—I'd like for you to look for any information that you can find on the Fidelius Charm. It's very important."

Again, Kreacher nodded his head almost violently. "Yes, Master Harry sir!" he croaked in replied. He then proceeded to flounce down the stairs toward the drawing room as Harry chuckled in amusement at the elf's enthusiasm behind him.

* * *

After he was done with dinner, Harry retired to his room once more, leaving Kreacher to begin his fervent cleaning.

Harry laid back on his bed and opened up one of the books from the Black library, this one on charms. As he read he found that it contained many interesting charms that he'd never even heard of. One in particular, however, caught his eye.

At first Harry thought that it was just another glamour charm. A bit more reading however, proved this to be wrong. Unlike the majority of charms, this one required it to be tied an object on the wearer. So long as the object was kept on the person the glamour illusion could not be removed, not even with a _Finite Incantatem_. If the object was removed or the counter spell put on the object, the glamour would be removed, though the spell could be replied to it later again if the caster so wished.

As Harry reread the passage about the spell, a large grin came onto his face. This could work out _perfectly_ for him for a disguise. He'd already decided to keep himself and "Lord Peverell-Black" as separate identities. Now, with this charm, he could possibly have a foolproof disguise for Lord Peverell-Black. The only things that remained were what he would look like under the glamour and what object he would cast it on.

Almost immediately, Harry's thoughts went to the necklace around his neck. He reached into his shirt, pulled it out, and then spent a moment staring at the strange pendant before a smile came to his face once more. He didn't feel like he was going to be taking the necklace off anytime soon, so it would work for the object. And as no one knew he had it, no one would think to take it off of him.

As for his disguise...Harry's mind wandered for a moment before it came to rest on something else that he'd discovered earlier that day. That something just happened to be Ignotus Peverell, the man who had looked disturbingly like his future self.

Harry leapt up from his bed, excited to get started. He whipped out his wand and, after checking with the book once more, attempted the spell, saying the incantation loudly and clearly while keeping firm picture of how he wanted to look in his mind. As the last word dissipated into the silent air of the ancient house, Harry touched the tip of his wand to the pendant of his necklace. The pendant glowed briefly before returning to normal.

Harry hesitated, unsure as to whether or not it had worked, and then approached the nearby mirror. Staring back at him was Ignotus Peverell, mismatched eyes, adult height, and all. Harry let out a grin, overjoyed that the spell had worked. That and being back to a normal height was almost refreshing after being so short for so long.

Harry glanced down at his necklace. Now to make sure that it would come off...Harry pulled out his wand and touched the tip to the pendant once more. He murmured the counter spell and just moments later, when he glanced back up at the mirror, he was himself once more.

For a third time in just the past few minutes, Harry smiled widely. He would have to practice the spell a bit more, but for the most part he understood it.

As Harry slipped his wand back into his pocket, he felt a piece of paper brush against his hand and abruptly froze. Shit! He'd completely forgotten about the message that the goblin had given him! Quickly, Harry pulled the envelope out of his pocket, opened it, and proceeded to scan through the letter.

To Harry's immense surprise, the note turned out to be from Ragnok himself. This was particularly shocking because he remembered how difficult it had been for Bill Weasley to even get in contact with him, and Bill had _worked_ for Gringotts. Needless to say, Harry had never expected that he'd receive a reply so quickly, let alone from _him_.

What was even more shocking were the details of the note: It requested a personal meeting with Harry. He couldn't help but shake his head in mute amazement. How many wizards could say that they had seen Ragnok, let alone met with him? He'd known that Gryffindor's Sword was important to the goblins, but not _this_ important.

Harry let out a deep breath. This would be a difficult meeting, but it was also more than he could have hoped for. With a bit of luck, things would work out in his favor.

After a moment more staring at the letter, Harry carefully tucked it away once more. He took out a piece of blank parchment and quickly penned a reply note, saying that he would meet with Ragnok tomorrow. Done with that, Harry rolled the parchment up and approached Hedwig's cage, which was hanging in a brightly lit corner of the room.

"Hey girl," he said softly as he undid the latch. "Sorry to have to use you so soon, but this is really important."

Hedwig simply hooted, amber eyes content. She flew out of the cage, circled the room a couple of time to stretch her wings, and then landed on Harry's shoulder. She hooted softly once more and nipped Harry's ear affectionately. Harry smiled up at the snowy owl. He hadn't really realized until getter her back just how much he had missed her.

"Thanks," Harry said to Hedwig as he pet her plumage. "Now could you please deliver this message to Gringotts? It's of the utmost importance."

Hedwig hooted once more in affirmation and then stuck out her leg for the message to be tied to. With a smile, Harry attached the letter before leading his owl over to the window.

After releasing Hedwig into the waning light, Harry watched her go for several minutes. Once she was completely out of sight, he closed the window and returned to his reading.

* * *

The next morning Harry rose with the sun, as he did almost every day. It seemed that even in the past he still wasn't out of the habit.

The first thing that Harry noticed as he slipped out of bed was that Hedwig had returned and was resting in her cage. Harry assumed that Kreacher had let her in. Lying on Harry's bedside table was a letter, addressed just as the last one had been. A quick scan of its contents showed that it was indeed a reply notice from Ragnok, requesting to meet Harry at 10 in the morning that very day.

Harry couldn't stop himself from smirking slightly. Considering what he had planned to do today, the meeting would fit in perfectly with his schedule.

Harry spent the next half an hour getting ready and eating breakfast. Once that was done, he nodded farewell to Kreacher and Disapparated out Grimmauld Place, dressed in nondescript Muggle clothing.

When Harry opened his eyes he was standing in woodland clearing. Just standing there gave him a strange feeling as he clearly remembered the area, despite the fact that he'd never actually been there before. Before him stood a rickety old house that was half in ruins. The only truly recognizable part of it was the still-standing door with a rotting snake's corpse nailed to it.

It was the Gaunt's house. Or at least what was left of it after so many years. Harry was partly surprised that the snake's corpse was still there; it must have been the work of a preservation charm.

With just a moment's hesitation, Harry approached the house until he stood just before it. He was unsure about actually entering the building; it looked as though it would collapse at any moment. Finally, Harry settled on just pulling out his wand.

"_Accio Peverell ring_," he murmured. Instantaneously, a small golden ring came flying out of the wreckage. Harry released a sigh as he caught the ring in his hand; he'd initially been afraid that there would be an anti-summoning charm on the ring, but this had proved to be false.

As he tucked the ring away, Harry took a glance around the clearing that the Gaunt house was situated in. Nothing else seemed to be of interest to him however. A quick _tempus_ charm told him that it was only 9:30, so Harry figured that he still had time to take care of one more thing before he had to head over to Gringotts for his meeting.

When Harry Disapparated again, this time he appeared in a very familiar place: The backyard of his relatives' home in Surrey. Moving quickly, he flattened himself against the wall of the house and then waited for a moment, hardly daring to breathe. Who knew who could still be in the house at the moment, and he did _not_ want to run into Uncle Vernon. After a couple of minutes with nothing inside the house stirring, Harry finally let himself breath a sigh of relief.

"_**Xiuhcoatl?**_" Harry called out in parsletongue as he knelt down next to the house.

After just a moment, the Brazilian boa constrictor poked his head out. "_**Yes?**_" he replied.

"_**Are you ready to go to Hogwarts?**_"

"_**Finally! Yes, I definitely am. There are many mice here to eat, but I am eager to hunt in the forest.**_"

Harry had to repress a chuckle at the thought of what Aunt Petunia's reaction would be if she heard that there were many mice under her house. "_**Alright then,**_" Harry said. "_**Come onto my arm and I'll Apparate us to the Forbidden Forest.**_"

Xiuhcoatl nodded his head once and then proceeded to slither his way up Harry's outstretched arm until he was firmly wrapped around Harry's shoulders and arm, with his head resting on Harry's left shoulder.

"_**Ready?**_" Harry hissed. The serpent nodded his head once and then the two disappeared with a quiet pop.

Just moments later found Harry standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, with the gates of Hogwarts looming in the distance. Harry had Apparated to just outside Hogwarts' Apparition wards.

Almost immediately, Xiuhcoatl dropped from Harry's arms and coiled himself onto the ground.

"_**Stay close to the edge of the forest,**_" Harry instructed. "_**All of the really dangerous creatures are further inwards. Along the edge of the forest in that direction—**_" Harry pointed towards the castle, "_**You'll find a small hut in which a half giant, a large man, and his bloodhound live. I'll find you there in a few days, when school starts. Just be careful not to get caught; Brazilian boa constrictors aren't exactly common in these parts, not even in the Forbidden Forest.**_"

Xiuhcoatl nodded once more. "_**No problem,**_" he replied. "_**See you later.**_" And with that he disappeared into the underbrush of the forest. After another moment, not even his slithering could be heard.

* * *

After leaving Hogwarts grounds, Harry returned to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. There, he changed into wizarding robes and a black cloak with a hood before Disapparating once more. This time however, his destination was Diagon Alley.

From the Alley, it took Harry only a minute to get to Gringotts. The streets weren't quite a crowded as they usually were, probably due to the time of the morning and because it was only a day before Hogwarts students had to leave. In fact, most of the people there were last minute shoppers.

Once inside the large bank, Harry quickly made his way towards a teller. Before he could reach one though, another goblin, dressed in the Gringotts' uniform, intercepted him.

"Please follow me, Lord Peverell-Black-Potter," the goblin murmured.

Harry blinked in surprise, but did as the goblin asked. The goblin led Harry down the long hallway that Harry had entered before when first enquiring about his key. This time, however, they continued all the way back until they reached the very end, where a large stone spiral staircase stood.

From there Harry and the goblin spent several minutes climbing the staircase, passing four different floors. Finally they stopped on the fifth floor, the top one, and the goblin proceeded to lead Harry down another long hallway. At the end of this hallway stood a pair of large double doors that had runic inscriptions completely covering them and two armed goblins standing on either side. The goblin, who was a few steps ahead of Harry, knocked soundly on these doors. _This had to be the most important room above ground,_ Harry thought slightly numb.

"Enter," a rough voice called from inside.

Immediately, the two goblin guards grabbed a hold of the large silver door handles and pulled the doors open. The third goblin, Harry's guide, bowed Harry in. Once Harry stepped inside, alone, the doors closed soundly behind him, making the young wizard jump slightly.

The inside of the room, which Harry quickly realized was an office, was a fairly large, yet empty space. In fact, the only piece of furniture in the room was a large, imposing desk that was covered in piles of paper. The stone walls of the room were bare except for a five foot tall coat of arms situated directly behind the desk. The two crossed axes that made up the lower half of the coat were very real axes with pristine blades. Above the axes was some sort of strange symbol which Harry guessed was in Gobbledegook, the language of the goblins.

What caught Harry's attention though was not the size of the desk, the emptiness of the room, nor the daunting coat of arms. Rather, it was the rather stocky older goblin which sat behind the desk. A pair of round spectacles were perched on the goblins nose, but his face was also marred with numerous battle scars, making for an interesting contrast. He was bent over a piece of paper, quickly writing in Gobbydook.

As Harry approached the desk, the goblin did not look up nor make any sort of an indication that he knew someone else was in the room. He simple continued writing away on whatever paper was before him then transferred that paper to one of the piles before picking up another paper and starting the process all over again.

Harry repressed a chuckle. He could see exactly what the goblin was attempting to do with the setup of the office, and had to admit that it was working.

First of all, the office was completely bare, causing it to give off a cold and intimidating feeling to visitors. Second, there were no chairs in front of the desk. This forced any visitors to stand instead of relaxing, giving the goblin a slight upper hand in any dealings that might occur. Finally, by refusing to acknowledge the presence of anyone else until he was ready, the goblin was forcing visitors to either stand uncomfortably and feel inferior, or announce their own presence and take the risk of appearing rude. And considering exactly who was sitting behind the desk, very few people would actually take that risk.

Harry paused for a moment as he considered exactly how to approach the situation before him. There were several different attitudes that he could take concerning Ragnok the goblin and all of them had the chance of either turning for or against his favor.

One of the first attitudes that Harry could take was to simple wait until Ragnok was ready to receive him. This would be the safest action and would give Ragnok the respect that he was due as the leader of the goblins. At the same time however, this would also give Ragnok an upper hand in all of their following negotiations.

On the other hand, Harry could also establish himself on being equal to Ragnok by not waiting for him to acknowledge his presence. Harry was actually somewhat within his rights to do this, as he was the one who knew where Gryffindor's Sword was, while Gringotts had nothing to offer him, at least not at the moment. In that sense, Harry automatically had the upper hand.

The question was: Would Ragnok be careful in his handling of Harry due to what he had to offer? Or would he just demand that Harry hand over the sword since according to their laws it belonged to the goblins? The outcome of the situation depended on how Ragnok would react and what chances Harry was willing to take.

Harry repressed a sigh as he made his choice. Now that he'd made it though he'd go through with it, for better or for worse. And if there was one thing that Harry was known for, at least amongst his friends, it was that he never backed down.

* * *

A/N: So, a few people have asked how Harry is still the Black's magical heir, even though he went back in time. There actually is a logical explanation for this; it's not just something that I pulled out of thin air. The thing is...I can't explain it just yet, not without giving away a ton of stuff. So you'll just have to wait until Harry gets the explanation as well.

Thanks for your reviews!

[Shi]


	6. Chapter V: The Deal

Summary: Harry Potter is just an eccentric school boy with some unusual talents. Lord Peverell-Black, on the other hand, is a magically and politically powerful man with the world at his fingertips and a war at his doorstep. [Time travel, no pairings.]

* * *

Shards of Time: The Master of Death

Chapter V  
_The Deal_

* * *

_"Life is like a game of cards. The hand that is dealt you represents determinism; the way you play it is free will." - Jawaharal Nehru_

"Good morning, King Ragnok," Harry began in an amiable tone. He desperately hoped that Ragnok's title was that of a king. "You requested a meeting with me, correct?"

Harry was pleasantly surprised to see Ragnok start in surprise. Obviously he hadn't been expecting Harry to speak up first, given his apparent age.

Ragnok frowned, but did not comment upon Harry's choice of approach. "Ah, yes, Lord Peverell-Black-Potter," the goblin said as his mouth widened into a toothy grin.

Harry nodded in reply. Then, without asking for permission, he pulled out his wand and conjured a simple, yet comfortable chair. Ragnok raised an eyebrow but, again, did not comment.

"Well," Ragnok began, shuffling some papers around, "I do believe that you mentioned that you know the location of 'Gryffindor's' sword?"

Harry couldn't repress the grin that came to his face; trust goblins to get straight to the point. "Yes," Harry replied simply. "And I'll have access to it in a few days time." After that Harry fell silent; he would wait and see just how the goblin would respond before continuing any further. Would they demand he hand over the sword? Or would he offer something in return first?

Ragnok paused as well for a moment as he studied Harry. So far the boy was a complete unknown factor, so they would have to be cautious in their actions as well.

Finally the goblin decided to just be blunt. "How much do you want?" he asked. Harry, for his part, decided to feign ignorance.

"Want? What do you mean?"

"For your information on the sword, boy! The sword!" Ragnok snarled, quickly losing his patience. "How much gold do you want?"

Harry couldn't help but smirk. "Gold?" he questioned. "Who says that I want gold?"

Ragnok faltered, once again surprised. Harry did not give him time to recover this time though, and instead pushed onward.

"I want to enact the Eye for an Eye Agreement," Harry declared. "An equal trade."

Upon seeing Ragnok's shell-shocked face, Harry knew that he'd been successful in his approach. He'd managed to make an impression on Ragnok and that wouldn't easily change now.

Harry was also very glad that he'd managed to remember the Eye for an Eye Agreement. It was a _very_ old trade agreement set up by the goblins more than a thousand years ago, before Gringotts had even been founded. It basically stated that they would trade something for something of equal value, within the terms of a contract that would be set up between the goblin and the trader.

After a few moments Ragnok showed a part of just how he'd earned his position by snapping out of his shock and quickly schooling his features back into a stoic expression. He stared hard at Harry for several minutes, studying him. Finally, a slow grin spread across his face.

"The Eye for an Eye Agreement, eh?"

"Yes. I'll give you _all_ of the information that I have on the location of the sword in return for an information agreement."

Ragnok paused once more before finally nodding. "Alright," he said. "I agree. We'll draw up the contract then."

Ragnok shuffled around some of the papers on his desk for a moment before pulling out a sheet of blank parchment. He then pulled out his quill and a bottle of ink and began to write. For the next couple of minutes, the office was filled with the sound of the scratching of a quill on paper. After nearly five minutes, Ragnok finally stopped and pushed the paper and the quill toward Harry.

"Read it over," Ragnok instructed. "Then write up your half."

Harry nodded and did so. The first few paragraphs were basically stating that Harry would give over any and all information that he had on the goblin-made sword, known incorrectly as "Gryffindor's sword", to Ragnok, the current king of the goblins, on pain of death. Harry read the passage several times over with a critical eye. Finally he nodded and began to write his half of the contract.

In Harry's part he had to explain what he wanted in return for the information that he was giving, so he penned down the details of the information that he wanted. Harry basically stated that he wanted to be given information that he asked for by the goblins, mostly wizarding politics information. Harry knew that quite often he would have to pay gold to receive the information—a bribe, technically, but that was beside the point—but the agreement itself was to allow Harry to "legally" gain the information. Truthfully, Harry was also planning on donating money to St. Mungo's and to the Ministry of Magic. He had a feeling that he Department of Mysteries would appreciate some of the items that Harry could give them from his vaults.

Once Harry was done with his portion of the contact, he handed it back over to Ragnok. The goblin took a few minutes to study Harry's portion of the contract, checking it for any loopholes, and then finally nodded in satisfaction.

"Now we shall sign the contract," Ragnok said. "Keep in mind that his is a magical contract. The 'on pain of death' part is completely valid for both of us, much like a magical oath."

Harry nodded solemnly and both he and Ragnok proceeded to sign the contract. Once they were done they grasped hands over the parchment and Harry could just about feel the magic settling in around him, binding him to his promise. Ragnok let out a toothy smile as he and Harry relaxed back in their seats.

"Well then," the goblin said, "Where is the sword?"

"The sword," answered Harry, "Is in the sorting hat in Albus Dumbledore's office in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Instantly, Ragnok's mouth dropped open and a murderous look came onto his face. "You tricked me!" he snarled. "You knew that I wouldn't be able to get into Hogwarts!"

"No," Harry interrupted calmly. "I made a deal. You were just too giddy about getting the sword back to think clearly about where the sword might obviously be; I saw how you rushed through the negotiations."

"That sword is mine!" Ragnok raged as he leapt up from his seat. "It was forged by my forefathers!"

Harry tensed in his seat, half sure that Ragnok would leap over the desk and attack him right then and there. After a moment however, Ragnok relaxed back in his seat. His labored breathing faded and his glare softened until, abruptly, he began to laugh.

Harry started at the sound, having never heard a goblin laugh before. It was a rough, wheezing sound that Harry was pretty sure a human could never mimic.

"It's been a long time since I've had a negotiation like this," the goblin king admitted. "And with a human no less!" He let out a deep chuckle. "I like you, child. Though perhaps that isn't the correct term, hmm?" Ragnok gave Harry another hard glance, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that Ragnok had read Harry's blood parchment, the one that had Harry's age on it.

"Well," Ragnok continued, folding his hands before him. "Since this had all been your plan, tell me, what do you want in exchange for the sword—which, might I remind you, is rightfully mine?"

Harry smirked. "Yes, it is," he replied. "But the sword is not in my possession so I can't just hand it over to you. I'll basically have to steal the sword and _then_ give it to you. So, technically, I'm charging you for the service of stealing the sword. Anyway, I once again enact the Eye for an Eye Agreement; a service for a service."

Ragnok let out a sigh, knowing that there was no way that he could argue. Harry smirked.

"Fine," Ragnok agreed grudgingly. "What is this 'service' that you want?"

Harry paused for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. "There is an item that I'm going to acquire today. The problem is that it's...broken. I know that it can be fixed, but not how to fix it. What I need is to have it fixed either by goblins or wizards—either way, I need to remain anonymous."

Ragnok frowned. "Fine, but you'll have to explain exactly what the object is first."

Harry smirked.

* * *

It was almost an hour more before Harry finally left Gringotts. By that time he'd worked out all of the details with Ragnok and signed a second magical contract before leaving on good terms. After that he'd gone back down to the Peverell vault, where he'd placed the Gaunt ring with the Hufflepuff cup and then taken the pensieve with him.

Almost immediately upon leaving, Harry Apparated into Grimmauld Place. He tucked the pensieve away in his room, ate lunch, and then placed the new glamour charm on his necklace before Apparating back into Diagon Alley.

This time, Harry didn't bother with any of the shops directly on the Alley. Instead, he headed straight for Knockturn Alley, pulling his cloak's hood up as he did so.

Knockturn Alley was just as shady and narrow as ever. Looking as he did however, especially since his face wasn't visible, he wasn't hounded like he had been when he'd first come to the Alley. If anything, people purposefully stayed out of his way.

Harry passed quickly through the dim alley and entered his destination: Boigin and Burkes.

The shop was filled to the brim with all sorts of strange and gruesome items. Behind the counter in the back of the shop stood the storekeeper, who was eyeing Harry carefully.

"What can I do for you, Mr...?" the man asked as Harry approached.

"Black," Harry supplied. "Lord Black."

The storekeeper breathed in sharply, his eyes widening in surprise. Harry half expected the man to question him about the truth of his identity, but instead he just nodded and slipped into a bow, causing Harry to raise an eyebrow.

"How may I be of service to you, Lord Black?"

"There are several items which I need at the moment," Harry replied. "I have been...informed...that you have some of them." Of course, there was really only one item that he needed, but it was better to let the man think that he was going to get more business.

As if on cue, the storekeeper's face lit up at the idea of making some sales. "Of course, sir!" the man exclaimed as he came around from behind the counter. "What is it that you need? I just recently got some new items—"

"Thank you," Harry said firmly, cutting him off. "But, as I said before, I already know what it is that I'm looking for." As he spoke, Harry's gaze moved to rest on a tall wooden shape leaning up against one of the walls: The vanishing cabinet.

It had actually been just last night that Harry had first thought of the vanishing cabinet. It was the perfect solution to one of his recent problems.

While at Hogwarts the only way that Harry would be able to leave—which he would doubtless need to do often—would be to sneak out past the grounds. Doing so, however, had a high probability of getting him caught. With the vanishing cabinets however, he could simply go into the Room of Requirement and exit out into Grimmauld Place, where this second one would be placed.

The only problem with this plan was that the cabinet in Hogwarts was broken and that if anyone else entered the cabinet they'd also be taken to Grimmauld Place, which would be _very_ bad. Thanks to his agreement with the goblins however, those problems were going to be fixed. Now all that was left was for him to purchase the matching cabinet.

The storekeeper grinned as he followed Harry's gaze. "Ah," he said. "Yes, yes, that's a very special cabinet. Anyone who enters it never comes out. It is said that there used to be a matching cabinet, but it was lost many years ago."

"Yes," Harry said with a grin. "Well, it's exactly what I've been looking for."

Abruptly, Harry stopped as he noticed something lying on a stand next to the cabinet. It was a large opal necklace, one that he recognized immediately as the one that had put Katie Bell into St. Mungo's for several weeks during his 6th year. Harry's mind immediately gravitated toward the necklace; if he took care of it now, then Draco Malfoy wouldn't be able to buy it—and neither would anyone else, for that matter.

"Yes, I'll take the cabinet and that necklace," Harry murmured as he gestured toward the two items.

The storekeeper grinned again. "Sure, sure. I'll wrap up the necklace right away—just be careful never to touch it. I assume that you have some way to take the cabinet with you...?"

"I do," Harry replied. He didn't expand upon that.

As the man began to take care of the opal necklace, Harry turned to survey the rest of the shop. As he did so he saw one last item that he recognized: The Hand of Glory. It was another item that Malfoy had used that had eventually led to the harm of others, even if indirectly. Not to mention that Harry himself could possibly use it...

Five minutes later Harry had paid for all of his purchases, including the Hand of Glory. Once that was done he called out, "Kretcher!"

With a small pop Kretcher appeared. "What does Master Black need?" the house-elf croaked. The previous night Harry had instructed him to always call him "Black" in public or in the company of others.

"Take these back home," Harry told Kretcher as he handed him the two wrapped packages. "And the cabinet too. Don't unwrap anything."

Kretcher gave Harry a bow and then laid a hand on the cabinet. Another small pop later and the elf and Harry's purchases were gone.

"Good day, Lord Black," the storekeeper said with a bow from his place behind the counter.

"Good day," Harry replied shortly before striding out of the shop. He waited until he was out of sight of the shop before relaxing. As helpful as it could be, acting the part of a rich pureblood was very stressful and tense.

Harry let out a nearly inaudible sigh and then continued on his way.

* * *

Harry spent the rest of his afternoon and evening with his pensieve, reliving as many of his memories as he could. Stopping only once for dinner, he managed to get up until the summer after his first year at Hogwarts.

The last thing that Harry did before he went to bed was to take out all of his memories of his past—or future, rather. He placed each year in a different, unbreakable and warded bottle. This way, even if Dumbledore or Snape used Legilimency on him—as unlikely as that was—they wouldn't be able to find any memories that he didn't want them to.

Harry paused for a moment to think of just why he was going to such measures to make sure that no one would find out that he was from the future. He knew that most people would have already told several people and specifically gone running to Albus Dumbledore for help.

The only problem was that... That Harry wasn't quite sure if he trusted Dumbledore anymore. He respected the man, certainly, but there was just too much that he'd kept from him, too many mistakes that the man had made over the years concerning his life. Even after speaking with Aberforth Dumbledore, Harry still didn't understand why he worked the way he did.

Harry knew and understood that Dumbledore was human just like everyone else, but there were just too many mistakes. Maybe someday Harry would be able to forgive Dumbledore, but not until he was truly able to understand everything.

Harry was also very hesitant to tell Dumbledore—or anyone else for that matter—about the truth for several others reasons. The foremost of these was that he wasn't sure what they would do. For one they might just deem him insane and throw him in St. Mungo's. Or they could send him to the Ministry and pick at his brain until they had all the secrets of the future. That would be the worst of anything that could happen. Harry didn't even _want_ to image what would happen if Fudge or Dumbledore got a hold of that kind of information, let alone Voldemort or any of his Death Eaters. No, too much was at risk for Harry to tell anyone, even someone that he trusted, right now.

With a sigh, Harry slipped into bed and closed his eyes against the strange, new world around him.

* * *

Harry woke up bright and early the next morning. Despite himself, he couldn't help but feel both excited and terrified about returning to Hogwarts. He was going to get to meet all of his friends again—even those who had died. Still, Harry had his doubts, ones that just wouldn't leave him alone.

Harry knew that he was far different from how he'd been in his first year—how could he not be after all that he'd been through? He and his friends had all changed and grown over time. So now, years earlier, would he be able to even connect with his past friends? Or would he be too different from them? Would they be too different for him?

With a sigh, Harry pushed his gloomy thoughts away. Things would turn out how they would turn out, he figured. He would just have to deal with things as they came. And besides, wasn't that the reason why he was glad that he'd come back—to change things?

Harry quickly finished getting ready and packed. By the time 10:15 had rolled around, he was completely ready to go.

Harry bid goodbye to Kretcher, letting the house-elf know that he'd probably be back in a few days time, since he had an appointment with the goblins regarding the vanishing cabinet. Then, with a soft pop, Harry Apparated into King's Cross station.

From there, getting through the magical barrier was just as easy as it always had been. Harry couldn't stop the smile that took over his face at the sight of the Hogwarts Express, standing before him in all its crimson glory. There weren't too many people on the platform yet due to the time, something which Harry was eternally grateful for. So far in the past no one except for Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape knew who he was—and even then it was because he'd told them—and he'd like to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Harry made a beeline for the train, weaving his way through the sparse families. Just before he reached the train however, a motion out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention. To Harry's surprise, it turned out to be Trevor, Neville Longbottom's toad. With a smile, Harry remembered how Neville had spent the entire first train ride looking for his toad. Maybe this time around he could use Trevor to break the ice between himself and the self-conscious boy.

Since there was a featherweight charm on his trunk, Harry had no problems pulling it up onto the train, Trevor in one hand. He moved along the train before choosing an empty compartment somewhere in the middle of the train. After securely placing his trunk, Hedwig, and Trevor away, Harry pulled out a book and began to read to pass the time.

The book was one of the ones that Harry had picked up at Flourish and Blotts. It was about wizarding customs and traditions. To be honest, Harry was shocked at how much about the wizarding world he really didn't know. He'd lived in the wizarding world for seven years now, and yet the majority of the things mentioned in the book he'd had no idea about. It just went to show that the wizards did often take for granted the things that they believed to be normal. Why were Muggleborns never told about these sorts of things? It gave them a distinct disadvantage!

The next half an hour passed very quickly for Harry. Before he knew it, he was broken from his reading by a sharp knock on the door. Harry looked up, only for his eyes to widen in surprise when the door slid open to reveal Hermione Granger.

"Hello," she said, her eyes immediately moving to Harry's book. "May I join you?" Harry opened his mouth to reply, but before he could Hermione moved into the compartment and sat down.

"What book are you reading?" she asked, looking at the book's title. "I haven't read that one."

"Ah, it's about wizarding customs and traditions—"

"Ooh, how fascinating!" Hermione exclaimed. "I haven't gotten a chance to read over wizarding customs yet—I've read through all of my school books though. Could I borrow that when you're done with it?"

Harry just chuckled and nodded. Good ole' Hermione, he thought, always fascinated by knowledge.

"Great! I was so excited when I got my letter, you know. Can you imagine it? Magic! I've already tried out a few simple spells and they've all worked for me. I'm a Muggleborn, by the way. Are you one too?"

Harry gave a small shrug as he closed his book and set it aside; he knew that he wouldn't get anymore reading done now.

"Both of my parents were wizards actually," Harry replied. "But I was raised by my Muggle relatives."

"Ooh, that must have been fascinating!" Hermione stated excitedly. "A blend of both cultures!"

"Yeah," Harry said, his smile becoming a little strained. "It was great." He'd almost forgotten that this Hermione didn't really know him yet.

Before their conversation could go any further, the compartment door suddenly slid open once again. Harry looked up to stare into the face of his red haired, freckled best friend, Ron Weasley.

"Erm, hi," Ron stuttered, coloring under Harry's and Hermione's gazes. "Do you mind if I...?"

Harry smiled at the lanky boy. "Sure," he said. "Please, join us."

Ron smiled in relief. "Thanks," he muttered. He hesitated for a moment before sitting down on the same seat that Harry was on, only further down, closer to the door. Harry was surprised at how nervous and shy Ron seemed. He didn't remember Ron being like this the first time around, although maybe that was just because he'd been seeing it from a different perspective.

Not a moment later, just as Harry was opening his mouth to speak, another head popped into the doorway, which Ron had left open. This time however, it was a girl with shoulder length sandy brown hair and brown eyes. She looked familiar to Harry, though he couldn't place exactly who she was.

"Hello," she said brightly. "Sorry, but everywhere else is pack full. Do you mind if we sit with you?"

"'We'?" Hermione asked.

The girl nodded and then moved to the side, revealing a dark haired and eyed boy who had been standing behind her. "We met on the platform," the girl explained.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron all murmured greetings as the two stepped into the compartment. The girl sat down next to Hermione and the boy next to her.

"Oh!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed. "I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Hermione Granger."

"I'm Susan Bones," the blonde haired girl said with a smile under everyone's expectant gazes. Harry suddenly remembered her; she'd been a Hufflepuff. But he could swear that he'd heard her last name somewhere else before—

"Bones?" Harry's thoughts were suddenly cut off by Ron's voice. The boy was leaning forward in his seat. "Are you related to Amelia Bones?"

"Yeah," Susan said, smiling tightly. "She's my aunt. She raised me."

"Amelia Bones?" Hermione asked, glancing confusedly between Ron and Susan.

"She's the head of the Law Department in the Ministry of Magic," Ron said eagerly. "I've heard my dad mention her—he works at the ministry too."

Susan nodded tightly and Harry could almost feel how uncomfortable she felt. Doubtless she hated people liking her just because of who her aunt was.

"So," Harry said to the currently nameless boy in the corner, attempting to get the attention off Susan, "What's your name?"

Susan sent Harry a thankful look. Harry nodded in reply before looking at the boy again.

"Terry Boot," the dark haired boy answered. Harry vaguely recognized the name as belonging to a Ravenclaw in his year, but he didn't think that he'd ever actually spoken to him before.

"I'm Ron," the redheaded boy told everyone. "Ron Weasley."

Finally, everyone turned to Harry, interested as to who the last among them was. For his part, Harry just gave them a sheepish grin.

"I'm Harry Potter."

The effects of Harry's words were instantaneous. Everyone in the compartment except for Harry gaped, shell-shocked expressions adorning their faces.

Ron was the first to break the silence. "Bu—...wha—Huh?" he mumbled intelligently.

As if the boy's words had broken her out of a trance, Susan suddenly smiled and held a hand out toward Harry. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry."

Harry returned her smile and grasped her hand. "You as well, Susan," he returned jovially. That seemed to break the ice and instantly everyone began saying hello before beginning to shoot off questions.

Harry humored them at first, amused by their childlike enthusiasm, but after a while the questions and comments began to wear on his nerves. His amusement was finally snapped by Hermione's ramblings.

"—And you're also in Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century, and—"

"Yes," Harry interrupted stiffly. "Fascinating isn't it."

Terry sensed Harry's sudden change of mood and sent a wary glance at Hermione, but the girl didn't seem to realize that anything was amiss.

"I know!" Hermione continued, "Imagine! Defeating the Dark Lord—"

"And watching your parents murdered in cold blood before your very eyes," Harry finished coldly.

Instantly everyone in the compartment froze. Clearly they had never thought of it from that point of view before. Harry ruthlessly squashed down the mirthless amusement that rose within him at the sight of their shocked faces. They didn't know any better yet, he told himself. They were still just children.

"I— I didn't mean— I didn't— I," Hermione stuttered, her cheeks aflame with embarrassment. Harry noticed that Ron's ears were a deep red and that Susan and Terry looked deeply abashed as well.

Harry let out a sigh. "I know you didn't," he told her gently. "It's just that it's not some glory story. It was a murder that I somehow managed to survive, not by anything done on my part, but rather because of pure chance. And besides that, most of those books aren't really 100% accurate. The authors weren't there at the time and no one's come to me asking for information, certainly." Harry's mouth twisted into a wry grin.

For a moment Hermione almost looked as though she was going to protest against his claim that the books weren't accurate. Finally, however, she returned his smile, though it was a bit tentatively.

"I suppose," she murmured.

Meanwhile, Susan was smiling as well. "I get it," she said. "You don't want to be famous for something that you didn't really do, at least consciously. Right?"

Harry smiled brightly at the girl. "Exactly!" he exclaimed. He'd been right in his assumption that the girl was able to at least partially relate to him on terms of fame—and infamy—because of her aunt.

After that incident, the group continued to chat and found that they got along rather well. Harry also found out several interesting things about his friends, particularly his newer ones, which he hadn't known before.

Both Hermione and Terry were the Muggleborns of the group. Apparently, Terry came from a wealthy Muggle family and he'd been set to attend Eton before receiving his Hogwarts letter. Susan, meanwhile, had been raised with her aunt in a magical sector of London. Harry was honestly surprised at how much the girl knew of laws simply from what she'd picked up from her aunt. Ron and Hermione were generally the same as Harry remember them being in his first year, though Ron was a fair bit quieter than he'd expected.

It was an hour after the train had left King's Cross Station before the group was broken from their conversation for the first time by the compartment door suddenly sliding open. Just as Harry had expected, it was Neville who peered nervously into the compartment. He froze for a moment, seeing so many people.

"U-um," he stuttered meekly, his eyes falling to the floor. "Sorry to interrupt, but has anyone seen a toad?"

Harry smiled softly at the nervous boy, and then reached over and picked up Trevor from where he'd placed him.

"Is this him?" he asked. "I found him wandering around and figured that he belonged to someone."

Neville's head jerked up, his eyes widening in surprise. Upon seeing the toad, he immediately jumped forward.

"Trevor!" he gasped. He gathered the toad up from Harry, thanking him profusely. Harry, however, just waved him off.

"It's no problem, really," Harry insisted. "As a matter of fact, why don't you join us, now that you've found your toad? Unless of course there are others waiting for you...?"

Neville blushed at the invitation and then, moments later, his cheeks darkened even further when the rest of the group began insisting as well that he join them. Harry moved aside, closer to the window, and then patted the seat next to him, beckoning the boy to sit down. Hesitantly, he did so.

After that it took a little while to get Neville into the conversation, but they managed to do so. After only a few more minutes and another round of introductions he was chatting happily with them all. Already he seemed to be a bit less reserved than he'd originally been, though, granted, he was nowhere near the Neville that Harry had come to know within his last couple of years.

Not even a half an hour after Neville joined them a polite knock came on the compartment door before the door slid open. Surprised, the conversation ceased and everyone look up to the doorway. Harry's surprise only increased when he saw Draco Malfoy standing there. The most shocking part however was not Draco—Harry had half expected him to make a visit—but rather that Crabbe and Goyle were not with him. Instead, there were two refined looking boys whom Harry vaguely recognized.

Draco's eyes quickly scanned the compartment before coming to rest on Harry.

"Potter," Draco greeted evenly, a polite smile on his face.

Harry gave Draco a nod of recognition as he moved to his feet. "Malfoy."

Draco glanced around the compartment once more, a small look of disdain on his face at the sight of Harry's company. His eyes did stop however on Susan.

"Miss Bones," Draco greeted with a small bow. "It's a pleasure to see you again. And you, Longbottom."

"You as well, Malfoy," Susan replied evenly. Her face was carefully guarded. Neville just nodded nervously in reply, inverting back into himself once more.

Draco smiled once more before turning his attention back onto Harry. "May I have a word with you?" he asked. "...Outside," he added after a moment, shooting a rather disgusted glance at Ron, who scowled back at him but said nothing.

Harry paused for a moment, and then shrugged. He couldn't see what the harm could be in doing as requested, especially since he was on fairly friendly terms with the boy this time around.

"Sure," Harry answered before following Draco out of the compartment.

Harry was honestly fairly surprised that Draco, while looking disgruntled, had yet to actually say anything about his new friends. This was a big change from the Draco that Harry had known. Perhaps his words in the robe shop had had _some_ effect on the blonde aristocrat.

Once they were out in the hallway, Draco closed the door behind them. As he did so, Harry played with his wand behind back, wordlessly casting a silencing charm around the four of them.

Once everything was situated, one of the four boys stepped forward, to Harry's surprise. He had auburn colored hair, stormy blue eyes, and stood a good couple of inches above the rest of the boys.

"I'm Theodore Nott," he said, holding his hand out. Without pause, Harry shook it.

"Harry Potter. It's nice to meet you."

As Theodore stepped back, the second boy moved forward, putting his hand out as well. He had tanned skin, shoulder length black hair, and eyes so dark that they nearly seemed to be black. Despite this, he seemed to be much less serious than his two companions.

"Hello," he greeted brightly with a thick Italian accent. "I am Blaise Zambini."

Harry smiled in reply.

Finally, Draco spoke up, "These are two acquaintances of mine. I figured that you might like to meet them, especially now seeing who you've been forced to sit with. Would you like to come back to our compartment? I could probably kick Pansy out if there isn't enough room."

Harry's eyes almost instantly narrowed into a glare, his old temper and of hatred of Malfoy rushing back. He made no attempt to stop it.

"First of all," Harry began and Draco instantly froze upon hearing the dark haired wizard's suddenly frigid tone of voice, "I was not _forced_ into anything. You should not make assumptions, particularly not rude ones. Second, kicking people out of a place that they've already been accepted into is also incredibly rude and uncouth."

Draco's face flushed to a bright red. To Harry's surprise though he was not angry. Rather, he looked like an unruly child who knew he'd done something wrong and had just been chastised.

"I— I just thought—" Draco stammered.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair while reining his temper in once more. He really needed to remember that the boy before him was just that—a boy. He wasn't the Draco that Harry knew. Right now he was just a child who was trying to follow in his father's footsteps. Harry was here to change things, right? Then he would start by changing this one little boy.

"I thought that we'd already gone through this whole heritage conversation before, in the shop?" Harry commented dryly. Draco flushed a bit more at the question, so Harry decided to try and make him feel less embarrassed. "It makes sense though," he said after a moment in a seemingly offhanded way. "You're just not quite cultured yet; you know nothing about Muggles or what they're capable of."

The flush receded from Draco's cheeks as a frown settled on his face. Just as Harry had hoped, instead of being angry he was curious.

"Capable of?"

"Sure," Harry replied with a shrug. From the corner of his eye he noticed that Theodore and Blaise, who'd been standing quietly, watching the proceedings, were also listening interestedly. "You know, if Muggles were to find out the existence of wizards, they could quite easily wipe us out, even if we hid."

Draco's frown deepened and even Theodore and Blaise had furrowed brows. "But how?" Draco protested. "They don't have magic!"

"No, but they have something just as powerful: Technology."

Seeing Draco's blank gaze Harry sighed and then proceeded to explain. "It is true that for over a thousand years wizards were much more advanced than Muggles. However, starting about two hundred years ago or so, Muggles started increasing their technology in leaps and bounds. Due to their condescending attitude, wizards have not noticed this, preferring to ignore Muggles completely. Now the wizarding community had fallen _behind_ the Muggle community and Muggles are increasing their technology every day.

"I've noticed," Harry continued with a sigh, "That wizards tend to think of Muggles as being akin to animals. Even those who are fascinated by them—" Memories of Mr. Weasley flashed though Harry's mind, "—still think of them as harmless. I find it hard to agree with this line of thought when Muggles have the ability to destroy entire _cities_ in mere moments. I know of no magic that can do such a thing."

The three pureblood wizards before Harry stared at him in openmouthed shock. Harry had little doubt that their shock was as much from the fact they'd never heard anyone defending Muggles before as it was from what he'd actually said.

Theodore was the first one to compose himself. He studied Harry through narrowed eyes, though a contemplative look was on his face.

"What then," the boy began slowly, "Is your opinion on what should be done about Muggles? Do you believe we should integrate their society into our own? Do you believe we should separate our society from them completely? Or do you follow more of the Dark Lord's views and think that they should be eradicated completely?"

Harry snorted. "Voldemort is a fool," he murmured, ignoring the flinches in reaction to the name. "And not for the reason that you think either. I...understand why he did what he did and know that he was really just standing up for his beliefs, needlessly violent though they were." Loathe as he was to admit it, Harry truly did believe it. He'd had a lot of time to think during the months of that summer, and he'd used the time wisely. As such, surprisingly some of his views had changed. He still hated the man with the entirety of his being, but he understood him a bit more now.

"Voldemort is a fool," Harry continued, "Because the task that he put before himself was quite literally impossible and nothing but a fool's errand that he set out on because he was terrified of death. If you don't believe me, just look at what his name means in French: Flight from death. I think that sums him up quite clearly.

"His goal was to kill all Muggles. This is impossible because there are _billions_ more Muggles in the world than there are wizards and, as I mentioned before, their technology is now far greater than our own. All Voldemort would have accomplished is exposing wizards to Muggles—which he came quite close to doing—which would most likely have ending up in the destruction of wizards."

"Why do you believe that Muggles would destroy us?" Blaise suddenly asked his head titled to the side inquiringly. "Even if they _are_ capable as you say, wouldn't it be more beneficial for them to work _with_ us?"

Harry shrugged. "In general all humans, be they wizards or Muggles, fear that which they do not understand. And Muggles _definitely_ wouldn't understand us. There is a chance, of course, that they would, but seeing what happened concerning the witch hunts in the medieval era, I have to doubt it. And would you really want to take the chance?

"To answer your earlier question, Nott, my view is a bit of a mix. I do believe that we need to keep our society completely separate from the Muggle society. However, I also think that there are a lot of things that we could learn from them—a lot which we could adapt.

"We could keep our society hidden, but watch theirs; know what they do and what advances that they make. We could have Muggleborns educated in the traditions of wizards, welcome them into our society instead of shunning them like many purebloods tend to do—a poor choice in my opinion. At the same time, wizards should be taught about what Muggles can do. Too few wizards even know what _electricity_ is for Merlin's sake!" Harry had to chuckle then, knowing from the other boys' blank faces that they didn't know either.

"Well," Harry said with a smile after a moment's pause, "I really should be getting back to the others. It's been nice chatting with you though; I hope to see you all again soon in Hogwarts. Good afternoon."

Then, with another smile and a polite bow, Harry slipped back inside the compartment that his friends were in, leaving three pensive boys standing in the hallway.

On the inside of the compartment Harry was met with stares.

"I...didn't know that you knew Malfoy," Susan said slowly. There was a slight frown on her face.

Harry shrugged. "I met him in Diagon Alley a few days ago," he told her. "He's a bit of a bigot, granted, but not so bad in the terms of conversation."

Susan shrugged, her face showing that she really didn't mind either way.

"What did he want to talk to you about?" Hermione asked, ever curious. Harry was glad to see that she didn't seem to mind Draco much and neither did Susan or Terry, though Susan _was_ a bit cool to him.

"He just wanted to introduce me to his friends." Granted, "acquaintances" was how he'd introduced them, but in Harry's mind it was nearly the same thing.

Terry raised an eyebrow. "You were gone a while for just 'introductions'," he said dryly.

"We got into a conversation," Harry said as he shrugged a second time.

"You do know that his father was a Death Eater, right?" Ron suddenly asked with a glare on his face.

Across from him Hermione gasped and Terry frowned, his brows knitting together. Clearly neither of them had known. Harry ignored them for the moment in favor of dealing with Ron.

"Yes," he replied simply, "But Draco Malfoy also is not his father. Can you honestly say that you're exactly like _your_ father? No, you're your own person, and so is he."

Ron scowled heavily, having nothing to reply to that. Instead of admitting Harry's point however, he crossed his arms over his chest and turned away to glare at the compartment wall.

"Ron!" Hermione almost instantly chided. "Don't be so immature! Harry's right; the son isn't the father. I'm sure that Malfoy is a fine person once you get to know him." Ron only scowled even more heavily and sunk down into his seat.

Harry smiled a small, sad smile as he turned to look out at the passing countryside through the window. He hoped that his blooming friendship with Malfoy wouldn't drive a wedge between himself and Ron, despite the bad feeling that he suddenly had in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

A/N: In regards to the AN in the previous chapter: It's been interesting to read some of your theories. One reviewer basically hit it on the head in saying that the "magic in the "present" recognizes the markers on his magic from the future which indicate him to be the heir to the Black family, same with the underage ministry tracer. There is in fact, more to it than just this (which would be the part that I cannot explain without giving away spoilers), but this should help to explain it a bit more for now.

Also, another reviewer asked about why Voldemort wouldn't be the owner of the Elder Wand, since he'd killed Harry. The answer to this is half because he didn't really kill Harry and half because Harry's in the past while Voldemort isn't. But...It's also partially that little something that I can't mention just yet!

Anyway, a bit more character development in this chapter. For this story you're going to have to keep in mind that Harry _is_ technically eighteen. If you were such an age and suddenly you had to hang out with eleven year olds 24/7, do you really think you'd fit in? Of course not; the difference in maturity is just too vast.

Thanks for all your reviews!

[Shi]


	7. Chapter VI: The Sorting

Summary: Harry Potter is just an eccentric school boy with some unusual talents. Lord Peverell-Black, on the other hand, is a magically and politically powerful man with the world at his fingertips and a war at his doorstep. [Time travel, no pairings.]

* * *

Shards of Time: The Master of Death

Chapter VI  
_The Sorting_

* * *

_"Experience is not what happens to a man; it is what a man does with what happens to him." - Aldous Huxley_

The sky was already pitch-black when the train finally pulled to a stop in Hogsmeade Station. As Harry stepped off the train and into the cool night air, he didn't even try to stop the bright smile that came onto his face. He couldn't _wait_ to get to the school again; it hadn't been that long, but he'd definitely missed it.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" a booming voice thundered out. Still grinning, Harry look down to the end of the platform where Hagrid stood out far above the masses of students getting off the train, a lantern in hand. "C'mon now! Firs' years!" he called out again.

Harry glanced back once to make sure that his friends were following him and then began to push his way toward Hagrid. As they approached, Hagrid smiled his big shaggy smile down on them.

"'Ello there," he greeted. "Is tha' you, Harry?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said while feigning confusion—Hagrid technically hadn't met him yet. "But how do you know who I am?"

Hagrid positively beamed. "I knew yer parents," he replied. "Yeh look jus' like James. Though yeh 'ave Lily's eyes!" Suddenly he paused, his eyes widening. "I fergot to introduce meself, haven't I? I'm Rebeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at 'Ogwarts." Hagrid stuck his hand out and Harry shook it, his own hand completely enveloped by the half giant's.

"I'm Harry Potter—though I suppose, of course, that you already knew that."

From there Harry also introduced Hagrid to the rest of his friends. By the time they were done, all of the first years had gathered around and the platform was starting to clear as the rest of the students headed toward the carriages.

"Righ' then," Hagrid boomed out to the group, causing several children to jump, startled. "This way—follow me."

Hagrid turned around and proceeded to lead them down a slippery slope towards the lake. When they finally reached the water's edge, they found a cluster of rowboats waiting for them.

In the scramble to get into the boats, Harry got partially separated from his friends. In the end he wound up in a boat with Neville, Hermione, and, surprisingly, Blaise.

"Ah, Harry!" Blaise exclaimed with a grin, surprising Harry with the use of his first name, considering as they'd only met once. Blaise seemed like a very laid back kind of kid. "How good it is to see you again! If I didn't know better, I'd say that you were stalking me." His grin widened, showing that he was just bantering.

Harry chuckled, if a bit uncomfortably. "I could same the same to you," he pointed out.

Blaise let out a chiming laugh in reply. "True, true!" he commented and then turned his attention onto Harry's friends. Seeing his gaze, Harry decided that introductions were in order.

"This is Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger," he told Blaise, gesturing to each of them in turn. "They're two friends of mine whom I met on the train." He ignored how Neville blushed heavily at being called Harry's friend.

Blaise firmly shook hands with Neville's and then kissed the back of Hermione's hand, causing the girl to blush.

"It is a pleasure!" he said, the smile never leaving his face. "A pleasure!"

"Where...are you from?" Hermione asked slowly. "Your accent sounds..." She struggled for a moment before making a sound of triumph. "Italian!"

Blaise's smile brightened. "Yes," he answered with a nod towards her. "I am Italian. My father is the Italian Ambassador to the British Ministry of Magic, which is why my family is here."

Harry's eyebrows rose; he'd never known that. Granted, he didn't think he'd ever actually spoken to Blaise before now, so that lack of knowledge made sense.

Hermione also looked instantly curious. "So you're attending Hogwarts just because you're here? Is there a school in Italy that you would have gone to if you were there?"

"Yes actually—it's in Rome. I believe it's just about the oldest magical school." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Well, no; there's a school in Egypt that is older, though they're pretty close."

Harry felt himself blinking in surprise. He'd thought that Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang had been the only magical schools in Europe! Apparently, Neville had also thought something similar.

"I hadn't known that there were so many magical schools..." the shy boy said hesitantly.

Blake grinned once more. "Sure!" He said. "There's actually at least one magical school in almost every country, though many of them are quite small. I believe that there are actually three in Great Britain at the moment; Hogwarts is just the oldest and the most renowned—not to mention the hardest to get into."

Harry couldn't help but let his mouth drop open in shock this time. There was more than one magical school in Great Britain? How come he'd never been told?

Before Harry could say a word however, the group was broken from their conversation by a sharp gasp from Hermione. Harry looked up quickly, only to freeze as he saw exactly what had caught the young witch's attention: They had just moved around a corner, bringing Hogwarts and all of its beauty into full view. Harry himself had to breathe in sharply as well, and he heard Neville and Blaise having similar reactions.

The castle stood on its high cliff above the lake. Its tall spires stretched toward the sky and its dark walls seemed to stretch on forever. All of the castle's windows were brightly lit, giving it a warm, welcoming look.

Harry stared transfixed at Hogwarts castle. Now, more than ever, he realized just why the first years were taken to Hogwarts on a different route than the rest of the students. It wasn't just because of the Sorting Ceremony, but to give them their first view of Hogwarts in its entire splendor. Even Harry, who had spent so many years of his life within the castle walls, was shocked into speechlessness by the sight.

As Harry continued to stare at the castle however, another sight flashed before his eyes. It was one of Hogwarts as it had been during the Final Battle, with its walls crumbling, pillars falling, spells shooting in every which direction, bodies littering the ground, and enemies of many different races advancing.

Sharply, Harry turned his head away to stare into the dark, murky waters of lake. No matter how much he tried to rid them from his mind however, his memories of how Hogwarts had been in what he had believed to be his finals moments were burned into his mind. Harry gulped deeply, shifting so he could grip the sides of the boat as he continued to push his feelings away, down deeper and deeper into his sub-consciousness. Not now. Not now. He didn't want to deal with this right now.

Harry never noticed the narrowed pair of eyes that were watching him.

* * *

After passing over the lake, leaving the boats, and clambering up a stone passageway, the first years finally made it to a huge oak front door. The students walked up a flight of steps and crowded around the door. After making sure that there were no wayward students, Hagrid raised a gigantic first and knocked three times on the castle door.

The door swung open at once, and there stood Professor McGonagall in emerald green robes with her usual stern look plastered across her face. Harry couldn't repress the small smile that crossed his face at the sight her. After his sixth year the only time that Harry had seen the older professor was just before the Final Battle, when he'd been trying to find Ravenclaw's diadem.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide with a gesture, revealing the massive entrance hall to the new students. As Professor McGonagall let them across the flagged stone floor, Harry couldn't help but marvel at how familiar it felt to walk through the castle once more. It was as though he had never left.

Even as these thoughts flew through Harry's mind however, memories of Hogwarts during the Final Battle flared once more. With a wince, Harry pushed them down, his excitement subsiding. He really hoped that he would start to forget Hogwarts as it had been, to replace it with what was now around him. It would be quite inconvenient, not to mention painful, to continuously see death around him.

Before Harry knew it, McGonagall had ushered all of the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. The children crowded in, standing rather closer than Harry was comfortable with. It was there that Ron, Susan, and Terry found them again; apparently the three had traveled together in the row boats. Draco, Theodore, and several other students that Harry didn't recognize also stood nearby.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall started, looking around at them all. "The start-of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each had produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House Points, while any rule-breaking will loose House Points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

She then turned on her heel and left the chamber. Almost immediately, students began whispering amongst themselves, wondering how they were going to be sorted.

"Fred, my brother, said that it's a test that hurts a lot, but I think that he was joking," Ron was saying. Meanwhile, Hermione was whispering very quickly about all of the spells that she'd learned and wondering which ones she needed.

Next to Harry, Blaise chuckled. "Like sheep, they bounce their fear off one another, allowing it to expand into near panic," he murmured quietly in an amused voice.

"I don't even understand why they're afraid," commented Susan, who stood on Harry's other side, as she mirrored Blaise's grin. "It's not as though Hogwarts has ever turned any students away that they've already accepted."

"Yes," Harry agreed, speaking a little bit louder so that everyone could hear him without actually appearing to be doing so purposefully. "I mean, we're first years; they wouldn't _honestly_ have a test that could hurt us or one on magic since we haven't even started school yet."

Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the other students began relaxing, logic overriding their irrational fear. Quietly, Theodore approached Harry from behind.

"Interesting manipulation of words there, Potter," he commented. Harry just smiled innocently at him.

"Manipulation of words? I'm not sure that I know what you're talking about."

Dark amusement was clear in Theodore's face. "You are a true Slytherin, you know that?"

Harry's smile widened. "I don't know about that," he replied. "You've never seen me when I'm truly reckless."

Before Theodore could continue the banter, a sharp voice cut into the buzz in the room.

"Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony's about to begin." Professor McGonagall had returned. "Now, form a line," she continued, "And follow me."

Harry slipped into line with Theodore in front of him, Blaise behind him, and Susan behind Blaise. The rest of his friends were situated at different parts along the line, wherever they'd managed to slip in. The first years then followed Professor McGonagall out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through the pair of doors that led into the Great Hall.

The Hall itself was just as Harry remembered it, with its thousands and thousands of candles floating in midair beneath the charmed ceiling and above the four long tables of the different Houses. At the top of the Hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting.

Professor McGonagall led the first years up to the staff table. She then silently pulled out and placed down a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put the worn Sorting Hat.

Everyone in the Hall stared at the hat as silence descended over the room. Then the hat twitched and a rip in the brim opened wide like a mouth—and then the hat began to sing:

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered. "I'll kill Fred; he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry smiled weakly. He'd considered telling his friends what the actual "test" was, but since the hat was a secret for the first years, he decided against it. Even those who had younger siblings never told them about the hat, as could be seen quite clearly with Ron.

What was making Harry nervous however was a part of the hat's song that he'd completely overlooked: The hat could see into his mind, into his memories. Or, as it said, "_There's nothing hidden in your head, the Sorting Hat can't see_". He only hoped that the hat's abilities worked similarly to Legilimency so that since he'd placed the memories in vials, the hat wouldn't be able to see them. It would be a complete disaster if the hat told Dumbledore that he was from the future.

Suddenly Harry paused, realizing something. Even though he'd taken out his memories, he could still remember them quite clearly. But that didn't quite make sense; weren't they out of his head now? And beyond that, the whole idea of "taking out your memories" suddenly seemed very strange to Harry. If you did remove the memories, wouldn't that mean that you didn't remember them at all anymore? But that didn't seem to be how it worked...

Before Harry's thoughts could continue on their path, Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and put on the hat sit so you maybe sorted," she said, then picked up the hat with her free hand, looking at the parchment. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-face girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause—

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table of the right, the Hufflepuff table, cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down.

"Bones, Susan!"

Susan took a deep breath and then made her way confidently toward the stool. When she pulled the hat over her eyes, it took quite a bit longer that it had originally for the hat to come to a decision. Finally, it shouted out, "HUFFLEPUFF!" and Susan scuttled off to sit at the table. Harry waved to her as she went.

"Boot, Terry!"

Harry's head turned back to look up front as another of his new friends was called up. This time however, the hat only had to rest on Terry's head for a moment before yelling out, "RAVENCLAW!"

The sorting continued on for several more minutes before the next of Harry's friends, Hermione, was called up. She was so excited that she nearly ran to stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head, causing Harry to chuckle.

Surprisingly, Hermione's sorting also took much longer than it had the first time around. Finally, after nearly two minutes, the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" Even as it did however, it sounded a bit unsure of itself.

Hermione smiled as she ran off to the cheering Gryffindor table.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

Neville quickly hurried up to the stool, nearly falling over as he did so. The hat took a long while to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," the boy quickly ran off, fortunately remembering to take the hat off first, unlike during his original timeline.

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called. To Harry's great shock however, the hat didn't immediately call out his house. Rather, it was almost a minute and numerous whispers among the student body later before the hat finally yelled, "SLYTHERIN!" Malfoy quickly took the hat off and nearly threw it back onto the stool, scowling heavily at it, before stalking over to the Slytherin table. Harry raised an eyebrow at Malfoy as he passed, but the blonde refused to meet his eyes.

When Theodore was called up the hat quickly shouted "SLYTHERIN," as it had in the past. Then there were only a few more people before finally—

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"_Potter_, did she say?"

"_The_ Harry Potter?"

Harry just barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Over time the student body had gotten used to him being a student and, particularly with everything that had gone on over the years, he'd stopped being such a "celebrity". He hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with the children's interest again for too long.

The last thing that Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. Nervously, he waited to see how things would turn out.

"_Hmm,_" the small voice of the hat said in his ear. "_Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes—and wait, what's this?_"

Abruptly the hat went completely silent and still for several moments. Harry waited tensely for it to speak again. He knew that hoping that it hadn't found his old memories was too much to ask for.

"_Merlin's balls!_" the hat gasped quietly, surprising Harry with its sudden vulgarity. "_Well, this is a surprise, Mr. Potter. And not to mention quite interesting. I don't believe that I've ever had a case like this before. Not to mention that..._" Suddenly the hat trailed off, as if unwilling to finish its sentence. Harry was curious as to what it had been about to say, but figured that it was better not to ask.

'_Will...you tell anyone?_' Harry questioned hesitantly in his mind.

Again, the hat paused for several moments. "_No,_" it said finally, a tired note in its voice. "_I will not for several reasons. The one that you need to know however is that I am spelled to never be able to tell _anyone_ of the things that I find in the minds of those I sort. It's a security precaution._

"_Hmm, well, before I get back to the sorting, I will first answer another question that's been at the forefront of your mind: How I can still see your memories even though you've removed them and, beyond that, how the removal of memories even works. I would normally not release information like this, but I know that you will never find it in any books and believe that you need the answer._

"_First of all, you need to understand what Legilimency is. It's defined as the invasion of the mind, yes, but really it is the attacker scanning through the memories of the user, rather than going into their actual mind. When one removes their memories in order to either store them or place them within a pensieve, they're not taking out their actual memories. Rather they're removing the magical residue that resides on the memories. The memory is imprinted onto the residue, which is why you can view it in a pensieve. Doing this also means that anyone who invades your mind cannot see the memory, because it is the magical residue which normally would allow them to find and see the memory._"

Harry blinked in surprise and then had to grin. Now that it had been explained to him, Legilimency made a whole lot more sense.

'_What is Occlumency then? How does it work?_' Harry asked the hat.

"_Occlumency is a lot like _Muggle_ meditation,_" the hat told Harry. "_Only, due to the magical core which exists within all wizards and witches, the 'meditation' takes a bit of a different turn. Those who manage the meditation—clearing the mind—are brought into direct contact with their magical core. Not only does this up the witch or wizards power, but, due to the connection, they have a bit of control over the magical residue that resides over their memories. This control means that that the Occlumens will be able to change their memories or hide them from the view of someone using Legilimency. Of course, it takes quite a bit of practice to become adept at it, but masters of the art—which are rare, considering as the mind arts are a very obscure branch of magic—are able to completely block attackers from their mind and, if they're truly powerful, even harm their attacker._

"_ Professor Snape, when he was teaching you Occlumency, was attempting to do it the roundabout, shortcut way because you did not have much time. I'm afraid however, that some people, like you, need more instruction on Occlumency. Those who do need more instruction though are generally more adept at the full version though. See what you can manage with the information that I've given you._"

Harry nodded, already sorting through all of the information that he'd been given. He knew what meditation was, so if he started with that he might be able to make a bit headway with Occlumency. The statement of "clear your mind" that Snape had always yelled at him made a whole lot more sense now.

'_Is there any other way that I can learn Occlumency?_' Harry questioned. '_Any books or anything?_'

The sorting hat let out an uncharacteristic snort. "_What part of 'it's an obscure branch of magic' don't you understand? There are no books on the subject. Only handful of people even know of the _existence_ of the mind arts, let alone are able to use them. I'd be surprised if there were even a hundred Occlumens in the world, and probably only a quarter of that number are cable of any sort of Legilimency. What you have to understand is that because so few people know Legilimency, there isn't too great a need for people to protect there minds. And because of this the number of people knowing Occlumency has gone down, and thus the number of people able to teach the mind arts has also decreased. The mind arts are a dying branch of magic._

"_Well, Mr. Potter, enough of that,_" the hat continued. "_I do believe that the rest of the school is waiting for us to be done._"

Harry blinked once more, suddenly realizing that he'd been talking with the Sorting Hat for quite a while. Now that he focused on it, he could hear whisperings filling the hall as the students—and doubtless many of the teachers—wondered what was taking so long.

"_You do indeed have quite a bit of courage,_" the hat told him, "_As you have proven time and time again. You have loyalty almost to a fault. Those whom you trust you would gladly give your life to protect. You also have a brilliant mind, half because you've had to become quick minded in order to survive all that you've been through. Above all, however, you are Slytherin to the bone. You are incredibly cunning—you've had to be all your life to survive, and it had only increased with time. You have also become quite ambitious, though your ambition is a noble: To rid the world of Voldemort and save those whom you care about. It's an ambition nonetheless though, and you will do just about _anything_ to achieve it._

"_Still, even with all of this, your unhesitant recklessness, raw courage, and knack for plunging into any situation headfirst, regardless of the danger it affords you, leaves me with only one house in which I can put you in. I shall agree with my...predecessor...and place you in _GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry let out a slightly relieved smile as he thanked the Sorting Hat and pulled it off his head. He had hoped he'd be placed in his old house; he wasn't sure what he'd have done if the hat had put him in Slytherin, even with all of his new...allies...there.

The hall all clapped loudly for him, if a bit slower than usual due to their confusion. The Gryffindors were quite enthusiastic and several of them had stood up while clapping.

As Harry began to approach the stool, McGonagall gave him a hard stare. Apparently she, like everyone else, was curious as to why his sorting had taken so long. Harry carefully avoided her gaze; he wasn't supposed to really know her yet.

When Harry took his place at the Gryffindor table, he was immediately bombarded with congratulations and introductions. After a minute or so, once everything had calmed down, Harry was able to focus his attention on Hermione, who was sitting across from him.

"Why did your sorting take so long?" she asked, voicing the question that Harry knew was on everyone's minds. Sure enough, everyone around them began to lean in, curious as to what Harry's answer would be. "You were up there for at least five minutes!"

Harry simply gave her a mysterious smile. "I...got caught up in a conversation with the Sorting Hat," he replied. Hermione raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask him to elaborate.

"Well whatever happened, mate—" a voice suddenly said from off to Harry's left.

"—You've certainly made some sort of school record tonight!" a second voice finished.

Harry turned his head to look at the speakers, only to freeze as he recognized them as two very familiar twins. Almost instantly, memories began to echo with in his mind.

_Harry knew immediately that something was wrong: Lupin was supporting George, who was unconscious his face covered in blood. Harry ran forward and seized George's legs. Together, he and Lupin carried George into the house and through the kitchen to the sitting room, where they laid him on the sofa. As the lamplight fell across George's head, Ginny gasped and Harry's stomach lurched: One of George's ears was missing. The side of his head and neck were drenched in wet, shockingly bright, scarlet blood._

Harry unconsciously gripped the table tightly enough to turn his knuckles white.

_The air exploded. They had been grouped together, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and Percy. Two Death Eaters were at their feet, one Stunned, the other Transfigured; and in that fragment of a moment later, when danger seemed temporarily at bay, the world was rent apart. Harry felt himself flying through the air, and all he could do was hold as tightly as possible to that thin stick of wood that was his one and only weapon, and shield his head in his arms curling his body as tightly as he could: He heard the screams and yells of his companions without a hope of knowing what had happened to them—_

_And then the world resolved itself into pain and semidarkness: He was half buried in the wreckage of a corridor that had been subjected to a terrible attack. Cold air told him that the side of the castle had been blown away, and hot stickiness on his cheek told him that he was bleeding copiously. Then he heard a terrible cry that pulled at his insides, that expressed agony of a kind neither flame nor curse could cause, and he stood up, swaying slightly, more frightened than he had been that day, more frightened, perhaps than he had been in his life..._

_And Hermione was struggling to her feet in the wreckage, and three redheaded men were grouped on the ground where the wall had blasted apart. Harry grabbed Hermione's hand as they staggered and stumbled over stone and wood._

_"No—no—no!" Someone was shouting. "No! Fred! _No!_"_

_Percy was shaking his brother, Ron was kneeling beside them, and Fred's eyes stared upward without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face._

Harry quickly pushed the memories away. He didn't want to remember what had happened. George was whole now and Fred was still alive. And they were sitting right before him. Suddenly, Harry realized that one of them was speaking, and listened back in.

"—and this is my twin brother, George," Fred was saying.

"Welcome to Gryffindor!" George chimed in.

Harry managed to give them a weak smile, hoping that they assumed his sudden change of attitude was from nervousness. "Thanks. It's...nice to meet you."

After that introduction, Harry turned his attention back onto the Sorting Ceremony. Professor McGonagall was continuing to go through her list of names, some of which he clearly recognized while others he could swear he'd never heard of before. When it was Ron's turn the hat quickly placed him into Gryffindor. A moment later, when Blaise was called up, the hat spoke with him for nearly a minute before finally declaring him a Slytherin. The dark haired Italian jovially waved to Harry as he joined Draco and Theodore at the Slytherin table.

Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. Meanwhile, Dumbledore got to his. The hall fell silent as he beamed down at the students, his arms opened wide.

"Welcome!" he greeted, beaming. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" Many of the first year's mouths dropped in shock as the Headmaster's words set in. Harry sniggered. "Thank you!"

Dumbledore sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered.

Harry glanced down at the table to find that the dishes in front of him were pile with food. He heard numerous gasps of surprise from some of the newer, Muggleborn students and had to grin as well.

It was good to be home.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore, the Chief Warlock, the Supreme Mugwump, the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, let out a sigh as he sat in his office. The feast had passed without any problems and Dumbledore had been quite pleased to see Harry Potter among to first years and was even more pleased that the boy had been sorted into Gryffindor, even if the hat had taken a while for the hate to do so.

However, it was that very same boy who was causing him a bit of grief now.

Dumbledore frowned as he stared at the object that was held in his hand. It was a small Gringotts key that he had just found had turned black. And as the key belonged to one Harry Potter, this was a bit of a reason to be worried.

When Dumbledore had received a reply from Harry saying that he'd be attending, the older wizard had been quite ecstatic. It seemed that the boy's relatives would not hide his heritage from him as he'd originally expected, which saved him the work of sending someone out to collect Harry. However, also upon receiving the letter he'd assumed that Harry's relatives would pay for his school things, and thus hadn't bothered to send the key. He'd figured he could give it to Harry some time in the future as a present like he was going to do with his invisibility cloak—perhaps around his 14th or 15th birthday. The Dursleys didn't have the faintest clue about Harry's inheritance, or even about the existence of Gringotts, he expected, so they wouldn't use that to pay for the boy's things.

However, the only reason that the key in his hand would have turned black was if it'd been deactivated. And _that_ would only happen if a new copy was made or if the account was seized. Considering as Harry hadn't—_couldn't_ have—done anything to cause the vault to be seized, this meant that he knew about his vault and had access to it. But how had he found out?

Dumbledore's frown deepened further before he finally let out a second sigh. Slowly, he opened up a highly warded drawer in his desk and placed the key in it, next to a wand. As Dumbledore moved to close the drawer though, suddenly he stopped, his gaze caught on the wand and his frown returning to his face once more.

That wand—his wand—was another reason for concern, far more so than the key. It was the wand that he had won from Grindelwald so many years ago. It was the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny, and, above all, the Elder Wand.

The problem was that recently, within the past two months or so, the wand had begun acting up. It didn't respond to him the way it normally did, and often didn't even respond at all. It was as if he didn't own the wand anymore, as if it didn't recognize him. That didn't make any sense though; it wasn't as though anyone had defeated him, and certainly not recently!

Dumbledore slowly pushed the drawer closed and carefully locked it. For now he was using his original wand—the one he'd had before he'd dueled Grindelwald—but eventually he'd find out what was happening to the Elder Wand. He'd have to.

Quietly, Dumbledore stood up from his seat, swept around his desk, and began to head out of his office and toward his chambers. He needed to get his rest tonight as tomorrow would be a big day: Not only would it be the first day of term, but it would also be the opening Wizengamot meeting after the summer solstice, when they had adjourned.

After Dumbledore left the Headmaster's office was completely still for nearly five minutes. Then, suddenly, Fawkes stirred on his perch, lifting his head up. The phoenix stared hard at the desk, not blinking, for just about a minute, and then suddenly lifted off his perch and flew over to land on the back of Dumbledore's chair.

Fawkes leaned down then, nudging the lock on the drawer that Dumbledore had opened that night. Almost instantly, the lock clicked open and the drawer slid out on its own. Fawkes gently picked up the wand lying in the drawer with his talons, nudged the drawer closed, and then burst into flames, disappearing without a trace.

* * *

A/N: Please note that the explanations for Occlumency and Legilimency in this chapter are _my_ version on the mind arts, not J.K Rowling's. Though, granted, she never really says exactly _what_ her explanation for them is. What I have explained just makes the most sense to me, considering how Occlumency, Legilimency, and Pensieves are used in the books. And no I will not be using the ever-popular physical mind barriers theory where Harry can go into his "mindscape". While interesting, that doesn't seem even vaguely realistic to me (even accounting for magic) considering as memories are just connections between neurons in the brain. I fully blame my psychology classes for that.

As for Harry's House placement...I debated a lot over where to place him. However, at this point he's still a lot like he was in the seventh book. And even in the seventh book, Harry's Gryffindor qualities (such as braver and recklessness) far outshone his other qualities. Hell, he went to Voldemort believing that he was going to die; if that's not raw courage, I don't what is. So he's going back in Gryffindor. Everyone else also went to their original houses (which actually wasn't going to do originally) because Harry hasn't influenced them enough yet to change their houses _that_ much.

Thanks for all your review for the last chapter!

[Shi]


	8. Chapter VII: The Classes

Summary: Harry Potter is just an eccentric school boy with some unusual talents. Lord Peverell-Black, on the other hand, is a magically and politically powerful man with the world at his fingertips and a war at his doorstep. [Time travel, no pairings.]

* * *

Shards of Time: The Master of Death

Chapter VII  
_The Classes_

* * *

_"Yes, I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can find his way by moonlight, and see the dawn before the rest of the world." - Oscar Wilde_

The night of the feast had passed by for Harry without incident. Throughout the night he'd carefully kept his eyes away from the staff table and as such had not experienced the pain in his scar from Quirrell.

After the feast, Percy had led the first years up to the portrait of the Fat Lady and into the Common Room. After being assigned their beds—Harry was pleased to note that he had the same one from his original timeline—everyone around him quickly fell asleep, excited for what tomorrow would bring them.

As Harry lay in bed on his side, his mind whirled with memories and thoughts of the upcoming classes. As of now his plan was to help teach his friends, new and old, to defend themselves. Although…if he did that outright, they'd become suspicious and wonder why it was needed; after all they were only first years. So, instead, he was going to have to do it a roundabout way. He could start by just getting them ahead in classes and teaching them a few nifty spells. Then, later when they saw just how dangerous things were going to be, he could really start to teach them.

Just as Harry was starting to drift off to sleep, he was suddenly jerked awake by a bright flash of what appeared to be fire down near his feet, within the curtains of his four-poster bed. He instantly sat up in bed, pulling out his wand as he did so. But as Harry sat breathing heavily, his body trembling with the adrenaline the shock gave him and his wand point unwaveringly at the spot where the fire had been, he could see nothing. He hesitated for a moment and relaxed his arm, but still kept it pointed at the end of the bed.

Quite suddenly, Harry realized that there was in fact something there, lying at the foot of the bed: A wand. The young wizard's brow creased for a moment in confusion before his eyes quickly widened as he recognized the slim piece of wood.

Moving faster than he ever had before, Harry reached out and snapped up the wand. He held it close up to his face to examine, to make sure that it was real. He needn't have done so however, as the moment his fingers came into contact with the wood of the wand he felt a familiar warmth spread throughout his being. Instantly, Harry relaxed, his shoulders slumping down. He let out a sigh as a smile spread across his face. He'd never actually held the Elder Wand before, but now that he had... Well, it was a feeling akin to drinking hot butterbeer on a snowy day or seeing his friends after a long summer.

It was like... Coming home.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and early. Harry rose with the sun out of habit—though, granted, his body protested against it. His eighteen-year-old mind might be used to waking early, but his eleven-year-old body certainly wasn't, even after a summer of doing so. He got ready quietly while the rest of the Gryffindor first year boys slept. As always, Ron was snoring the loudest. Memories of the past seven years brought a smile to Harry's face.

Harry dressed in his Hogwarts robes, which were now once again sporting a Gryffindor badge. He put his original wand in his pocket and placed the Elder Wand within one of his boots under several notice-me-not, sticking, and anti-summoning charms. He didn't want to leave the Wand off his person, but also didn't want anyone to find it. He still wasn't entirely sure who had brought the Wand to him since it was supposed to be Dumbledore's right now, though he did have a theory.

As it was only just 5:30 in the morning, Harry gathered up his school things in his school bag and then proceeded to spend the next hour or so wandering around the school, re-familiarizing himself with its halls. He also scouted out some classrooms that didn't look like anyone had stepped into them in quite a number of years. They could be quite useful for practice. Harry was tempted to just use the Room of Requirement, like he had with the Defense Association in his fifth year, but had eventually0020decided that it'd be too suspicious for him to know about it, especially so early in the year.

Finally, Harry let his feet take him down to the Great Hall, which was only just beginning to fill up with students. The only one of his friends that he recognized there was Susan, so, after a moment's decision, he took a seat next to her at the Hufflepuff table.

Susan raised a questioning eyebrow at him as he sat down next to the blonde. Harry also noticed several of the older students in the hall staring at him in surprise, but ignored them.

"Morning," Harry greeted brightly as he began to place some food onto the plate before him. Susan continued to stare.

"Um, Harry..." Susan started hesitantly.

Harry looked up, feigning curiosity while successfully hiding his immense amusement at the situation. Breaking people's expectations was just so much fun. "Hmm?" he asked.

"You...do realize that this is the Hufflepuff table right?"

"Yes."

"And that you're a Gryffindor?"

"Yes." She blinked, and he continued tilting his head slightly. "And?"

"Then why aren't you sitting at the Gryffindor table?"

Harry blinked again giving her question a moment of thought. "Is there something in the school rules that says that we _have_ to sit at our House tables?"

Susan hesitated, surprise showing clearly across her face. "Well...no," she said softly, letting her voice trail off at the end.

"Then why should I have to sit at the Gryffindor table every meal instead of sitting with a friend?"

Susan stared at Harry in surprise for several more moments before finally breaking up into laughter, though she attempted to stifle it.

"Only you, Harry," She murmured, shaking her head in amusement. "Only you." Harry grinned at her in response and then returned to his breakfast.

It was only a few more minutes before a second familiar face came into the hall: Blaise Zabini. Blaise blinked in surprise when he saw Harry sitting at the Hufflepuff table, but then shrugged and made his made over. He plopped down in the seat across from Harry and began to load his plate with food as well.

"Good morning, Harry!" He said cheerily, before glancing at Susan. "And Miss Bones! It's nice to meet you again. It's...Susan, correct?"

Harry blinked in confusion. He was pretty sure that he'd never introduced the two of them. Susan, however, just smiled.

"Yes," she replied. "Though I'm afraid that your name escapes me..."

Blaise's grin widened. "Not to worry, not to worry!" he exclaimed, somehow bowing where he sat. "I am Blaise Zabini."

Susan smiled again and shook the Italian boy's hand.

"So, Harry," Blaise began as he started to eat a slice of toast. "Are there any classes that you're looking forward to in particular?"

"Well, Defense against the Dark Arts, though I believe the teacher might be a bit different than I'm expecting. And Charms to, I suppose—it sounds rather interesting." Harry paused for a moment, thinking, before a smirk spread across his face. "And Potions," he said finally. "Definitely Potions." It would be highly amusing to him to see how Snape would handle him this time around.

Harry, Blaise, and Susan continued to discuss some of the classes for several minutes. Soon Hermione too entered the Great Hall. At first, the bushy haired girl just began to walk toward the Gryffindor table, but then she abruptly froze in place, recognizing Susan, Harry, and Blaise from where they sat. Quickly, she hurried over to the Hufflepuff table, her face starting to scrunch up.

"Harry! Blaise!" she hissed. "What are you doing?"

Harry blinked and turned to face her. "Eating breakfast," he replied honestly unable to stop his mental sniggers. At her bafflement, he held up a piece of a waffle. "Want some?"

Hermione's face turned red. "That's not what I meant!" she snapped, ignoring his latter question. "Why aren't you two sitting at your proper tables? You'll get in trouble!"

"'Get in trouble'?" Harry parroted, blinking up at Hermione once more. "Why on earth would we? Sitting at another house's table and eating with friends isn't against the rules, you know."

Almost instantly, all of the anger drained out of Hermione's face. "It's not?" she asked in confusion. Harry smiled brightly at her.

"Nope!" he replied happily. "You can check the rules if you like, though I do believe that you've already read _Hogwarts: A History_."

Hermione frowned for a moment. "I— Oh... Oh, alright," she said at last with a sigh. Abruptly, she was right in front of Harry, shaking a finger at him. "But if we get in trouble," she hissed warningly, "It's on your head!"

Harry went cross-eyed staring at the finger in front of him and, just as he'd hoped, it caused Hermione to laugh. Shaking her head in exasperation, she went around to sit next to Blaise, across from Susan.

Next it was Terry who found them. He hesitantly approached them, looking torn between sitting at the Ravenclaw table and sitting with them, but in the end did sit down next Susan. Only a minute after him, Draco, Theodore, and several other Slytherins entered as well. Draco stared at Harry and the others in shock. Harry waved to him and then returned to his conversation with the others. He was not at all surprised when the blonde waved weakly back and then proceeded to the Slytherin table; the boy was practically soaked in tradition from birth after all. Theodore sat and the Slytherin table as well, though he gave Harry a long, assessing stare as he did so.

When Neville came into the hall and saw Harry and the others, he froze in place, looking like a deer in headlights. Harry and his friends waved him over, however, so the boy slowly approached.

"Come on, Neville," Harry said while he patted the seat next to him. "Sit down and have breakfast with us." The boy stuttered a bit, but finally did sit down next Harry and hesitantly began to eat. Fortunately, it only took another minute to pull him into the conversation and soon he was enthusiastically chatting with everyone else.

It was quite a bit later that Ron entered the Great Hall with Seamus. Harry looked up and attempted catch the redhead's eyes, but Ron was so involved in his conversation that he didn't notice and instead sat down the Gryffindor table. Harry frowned when, even ten minutes later, Ron didn't notice that he, Hermione, and Neville were not there.

By that time most the Great Hall had filled with students. As the table filled up around the group of friends, they were met with numerous stares from not only Hufflepuff, but the other houses as well. People began whispering and staring, but Harry and his friends just firmly ignored them. Neville might have been nervous had he noticed, but the boy was too caught up in conversation to do so.

From there, breakfast progressed quickly for Harry and his friends. Harry was not surprised to find that Dumbledore was not present at the staff table throughout the entire meal. He had little doubt that the elderly man was going ballistic over the missing Elder Wand.

Before Harry knew it, the heads of houses had begun to go around, passing out timetables. Almost immediately, McGonagall made a beeline for them.

"Mr. Potter," she said, and Harry barely managed to stop his eye from twitching. Why was she singling him out? Not the he really minded, but it was the point that mattered. "May I ask why you're sitting here instead of at the Gryffindor table?"

Across from him Hermione began to stutter, but Harry just smiled at the stern woman.

"Sitting with my friends, Professor," he answered. "We're all from different houses, so we just sat here instead."

McGonagall frowned, though she didn't look angry. Before she could say another word however, Flitwick suddenly joined them.

"I think that it's wonderful!" the small professor squeaked happily. "We need more inter-house relations!"

"Indeed," Sprout chimed in as she passed out her student's timetables. "I don't mind them sitting at my table at all. Hopefully they'll even encourage others to do the same!"

McGonagall's lips thinned momentarily, but eventually she sighed and nodded. "Fine, just don't cause any trouble," she said, giving the group of students a hard stare.

"Well it's arrogance, if you ask me," Snape sneered. His sudden appearance cause several people—students and teachers alike—to jump in surprise. The dark haired man was staring straight at Harry.

Harry pushed down his instinctive reaction at Snape's attitude in favor of keeping a calm head. If he played his cards right, he might even be able to turn this confrontation in his favor.

Harry then feigned confusion, as if wondering why Snape was being callous.

"Professor Snape!" Harry called happily, causing the professors—and several nearby students—to jerk in surprise at the familiar greeting. For a moment even Snape resembled a deer in headlights, though he quickly managed to regain his composure. Harry paused for a moment then, pretending to think about what Snape had said. "Arrogance?" he questioned, making sure his tone was that of innocent curiosity. "Well, I suppose I could see that…" —On either side of him, Susan and Neville stared at him like he was insane for agreeing with Snape— "But I checked with the school rules before sitting here and, Sir, there's nothing in them about being required to sit anywhere—except for the restriction on the Staff table, of course."

Snape colored ever so slightly and his mouth opened and closed several times as he attempted to find some fault in Harry's statement. He could not however—particularly not in front of the other heads of houses—so finally he closed his mouth with an audible click and gave Harry a barely perceptible nod. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode off, his cloak billowing out behind him.

McGonagall stared after Snape for a moment, shaking her head sadly. Then she pulled out several small sheets of paper and passed them to Harry, Neville, and Hermione. While the other teachers did something similar, Harry looked down as his slip and found that it was his schedule. Just like during his first year he had Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, History of Magic, Herbology, and Astronomy. That day, Monday, he had Herbology and History of Magic before lunch, followed by Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

A quick comparison between Harry's and the other's slips showed that he had Herbology with Hufflepuff, History with Ravenclaw, Potions with Slytherin, and Defense Against the Dark Arts with Hufflepuff. He'd get see all of his friends throughout day.

"Wait a moment," Hermione suddenly said, her face scrunched up in confusion. "Blaise, how did you get your timetable? Professor Snape never gave it to you."

"Oh, Slytherins got their timetables last night. I'm not sure why the other heads of houses don't do the same thing."

Harry blinked in surprise at this new bit of information and then had to agree with Blaise. It would be much easier if they were all given their timetables before the first day of classes because they would then know which books to bring with them instead of having to lug all of them around. Not that it was a problem for Harry, of course, because not only had he already known what his classes were going to be, but he also had a feather-light weight and magically expanded book bag, so he had all of his books with him anyway.

Once breakfast ended Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Susan began to head out of the school and toward the greenhouses. Other first year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors joined them and, eventually, Ron caught up with them as well.

"Hey, mate," he said to the group at large as they began to trudge across Hogwarts' grounds. "Where were you at breakfast?"

Harry smiled at Ron, glad that his friend seemed to have completely forgotten the annoyance that he'd felt on the train. "Neville, Hermione, and I were sitting with Susan at the Hufflepuff table. Didn't you see us?"

Looking somewhat bewildered, Ron shook his head. "You can do that?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

"Sit at other tables I mean—I've never heard of anyone doing that before."

"Oh, yes. The only rule about seating is that students are not allowed to sit at the staff table at any time."

Susan blinked surprise. "Hogwarts honestly has a rule about that? I though that you were just kidding before. I mean, I would've thought that it would be a given."

"Go figure," Harry replied with a chuckle as he shrugged. "I'm not sure that I even want to know what incident must have happened in order to create the rule."

"I bet two Knuts that it has something to do with my brothers, Fred and George," Ron grumbled.

'_Or my father and his friends,_' Harry thought to himself. '_Hmm, I'll have to ask Sirius about that when I see him again..._'

Abruptly Harry froze in place as his mind registered his last thought. Sirius. _Sirius_. Sirius was still alive! He hadn't fallen trough the veil yet. Hell, he hadn't even escaped from Azkaban prison yet!

Harry had already acknowledged this, of course, but it was only just really sinking in. It was as though even through everything that'd been happening, there had still been some small part of his mind that had been convinced that this was all a dream. But now that part was just as sure as the rest of him. He was _here_. He was _now_. He had a second chance.

"Harry?" Susan asked worriedly. Harry quickly looked up to find his friends staring at him with concern. "Are you alright?"

"You froze, went all pale, and started shaking," Hermione added.

Carefully, Harry straightened himself out and took a deep breath. "I'm fine," he told his friends. On the inside he was cursing himself for being so careless as to allow his old memories to take a hold of him like that. "Really. I'm just...cold."

Harry's friends stared blankly at him for a moment, then up at the sunny, cloudless sky, then back down at him again. Harry smiled sheepishly at them and then quickly hurried by. His four friends shared a glance, but didn't say anything more before moving to catch up with Harry.

* * *

"Good morning, first years!" Sprout said cheerily as she approached the group of students standing outside of Greenhouse #1. "I am Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff house and the Hogwarts Herbology teacher."

As the children murmured 'Good Morning', Sprout opened the door to the greenhouse and led them inside. The greenhouse was completely filled with numerous plants—though none of them dangerous—and worktables with two seats at each.

"Have a seat," Sprout announced. "And pull out your notebooks."

Harry chose a random seat towards the middle of the room. To his surprise, it was Neville who sat down next to him. Susan and Ron sat at a table behind them and Hermione joined a Hufflepuff boy in front of them.

"I hope that you have chosen your seat wisely," Sprout said from the front of the greenhouse once everyone had a seat, "Because the person next to you is going to be your partner for the rest of the semester."

Instantly, Harry's eyes narrowed. It wasn't because he was paired with Neville—he was actually glad about that because the boy had come to love Herbology over the years and Harry hoped that he could help him along—but rather for another, deeper reason. Harry had gone through the memories of his first year just a few days ago and they had _never_ had permanent partners in the original timeline. What had changed? What _could _have changed in such a short amount of time to have this effect?

The rest of Herbology flew by for Harry. They were starting off purely with theory and would start with actual plant care next week. After that Harry and his friends whisked off to History of Magic, meeting up with Terry along the way. The dark haired boy also introduced the group of Gryffindors to one of his roommates, Anthony Goldstein, a boy with wavy blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes.

"It's nice to meet you," Harry said to the boy. "I'm—"

"Harry Potter. I know," Anthony interrupted with a grin.

History of Magic was just as Harry remembered it being, with Professor Binns droning on. Within minutes most of the class had dropped off to sleep, though Hermione as still dutifully taking notes. Harry attempted to pay attention, knowing that he'd failed the class last time and that, this time around, it might be able to help him, but found that he was unable to do so. Finally, with a sigh Harry pulled out his history textbook and began to read the chapter that the current lecture was on instead of listening to the lecture itself.

Terry and Anthony's eyes widened upon seeing what Harry was doing. They shared a look and then, with a simultaneous nod, pulled out their textbooks.

After class, Hermione quickly approached them. "What were you doing?" she growled out as she glared reprimanding. "Why weren't you listening to Professor Binns?"

Harry blinked in surprise. He'd forgotten just how much respect—and often fear—for authority she used to have.

"Erm, Hermione," Harry began, "You may have noticed that Professor Binns is a bit...difficult...to listen to. So, instead, we pulled out our textbooks and started to read the material—it's the same information."

Hermione was still scowling. "But that's disrespectful to the teacher!"

"It's not like he noticed," Terry said.

Anthony nodded his agreement. "Yeah, and at least we weren't asleep."

Hermione huffed, but let up a bit. As the four—six when Ron and Neville joined them—began to walk toward the Great Hall, Hermione continued to grumble. Fortunately though, she seemed to at least partially accept what they'd said.

"Think of it this way, 'Mione," Harry said with a grin. "It's a choice between respecting a ghost and your grades. Which will you choose?"

Hermione's mouth opened and closed several times as she struggled to reply. In the end however she was unable to, so she just settled for silence as she began to work out this new "dilemma".

When they reach the Great Hall the group sat down at the Ravenclaw table without hesitation. Harry felt that it was nice to have Ron with them as well this time, though the boy did look a bit uncomfortable.

During lunch Susan joined them as well, though Blaise sat with the Slytherins. He seemed to be completely wrapped up in a conversation with a third year.

Lunch passed far too quickly in Harry's opinion and before they knew it everyone was leaving the Hall and Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Neville were making their way down to the dungeons for Potions. Along the way, Blaise caught up with them and fell in step with Harry.

"So, how have your classes been so far?" the Italian boy asked.

Harry shrugged lightly. "Fine, though History of Magic was a bit dull."

Blaise nodded sympathetically. "I've heard as much," he said and then suddenly grinned. "Fortunately, I don't have it until tomorrow."

Harry and Blaise continued to make idle chitchat until they reached the Potions classroom. There they met up with a group of Slytherins, including Draco Malfoy.

"Potter," Draco greeted formally. He gestured to the group of children behind him. "There are some people I'd like to introduce you to as I was unable to do so before the Sorting Ceremony."

The blonde wizard then proceeded to introduce Harry to the majority of the Slytherin first years. Polite introductions and bows were exchanged. Acting on a whim, Harry introduced his friends as well. Draco and Ron stared darkly at each other the whole time, but neither spoke up.

Once done, everyone moved into the Potions Classroom and took their seats. Harry ended up sitting in the front row with Draco. Blaise and Hermione where one table over. Ron sat with Seamus, their roommate, while Theodore and, surprisingly, Neville paired up. Harry was glad about the last pair; though he didn't know much about Theodore's Potions skills, the boy should hopefully at least be able to stop Neville from making any big mistakes.

Only a few minutes later, once everyone had sat down, Snape strode into the classroom, his robes billowing around him. The door slammed shut loudly behind him, causing several people to jump. He ignored the students for a minute, taking care of several papers that littered his desk. Finally, he stood before his desk, took a moment to survey the class, and then began to take roll.

As Harry watched Snape he had to admit that the man was very skilled at intimidation, almost more so than Alastor Moody. He knew just how to build tension in the room so that everyone was sitting on the edge of their seats even though he had yet to say a word to them.

When Snape got to Harry's name he paused but, to Harry's great surprise, didn't say make any comments and simply continued on with the list. Harry repressed a grin. Good, things were starting to change already. He knew that getting over his own hatred of the man who had tormented him through the years would be difficult, but having learned how close he'd been to his mother and seeing him die was helping him along.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape began once he was finished. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe that this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed Snape's speech. Several students were on the edges of their seats, though most just looked terrified.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. So much for changing things. Oh well, at least he'd heavily looked over potions books in the last few days, preparing himself for this very class.

"The Draught of Living Death, sir," Harry answered. "It's a sleeping potion so powerful that it makes the drinker appear to be dead."

Snape stared hard at Harry for moment, as if he wasn't sure whether or not to be surprised that Harry had known the answer. "And where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"Well, an Apothecary would be the easiest location, but bezoars are originally found in the stomachs of goats."

"What's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"There is no difference, sir. They're the same plant."

"And what other name are they known by?"

Harry paused for a moment, thinking. "...Aconite, sir."

For the next five or so minutes, Snape continued to shoot out questions at Harry, instead of stopping after three like he had originally. Harry managed to answer all of them correctly, though he struggled with many of them. The dark haired wizard was incredibly glad to have brushed up on his Potions before the class, though years of Potions class helped immensely as well.

Finally, Snape stopped. For a moment Harry could swear that there was a ghost of a smile on his lips, but it quickly disappeared and, considering as this _was_ Snape, he figured to just have been his imagination.

But it wasn't his imagination that Snape proceeded to watch him even more closely than he used to during the whole class period.

* * *

In his seat Dumbledore beamed happily, his eyes twinkling as they often did. Laid out before him was the chamber reserved solely for Wizengamot meetings, filled with the sound of many voices, all having their own conversations. The members of the Wizengamot were seated all around him, split into three sections.

Dumbledore himself sat in the front seat of one section, while Cornelius Fudge sat in the front of another, and a pureblood wizard in the front of the third.

The members of the Wizengamot only took up 3/4 of the room however. The last forth was a balcony separated from the rest of the room. This space contained all of the ambassadors from other countries. Though they had very little say in Wizengamot meetings, they were there to watch and report what happened back to their home countries.

"Order! Order!" Fudge, the Minister of Magic, called out loudly. Quickly the hubbub that filled the room subsided until there was only silence. Fudge cleared his throat once for good measure and then stood up regally. "I call into order the first Wizengamot meeting of the Winter Term. The day is September 2nd, the year 1991." Almost as soon as he started talking, a quill on a piece of parchment began to write, recording everything that was being said. "Before we begin, is there anything that needs to be addressed immediately?"

Dumbledore stood up from his seat. "Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock," he said, stating his name and position as was required. "The Warlock division has no emergency issues." And with that he sat back down.

Immediately after him, the richly dressed pureblood man one section over stood up. "Lord Richard Adair, Chief Familia. The Family division has no emergency issues."

Fudge nodded sharply. "Then we will proceed." From there on Dumbledore only half listened to the meeting. He paid attention to everything that was happening, certainly, but at the same was thinking about other, more important matters, such as the newly-missing Elder Wand. His attention was firmly ripped from his personal problems, however, when Lord Adair began to announce the names of the new appointees of the Family division. It wasn't the announcement itself that caught his attention—it occurred during every opening meeting—but rather the pause that Lord Adair suddenly went into.

"We have two...irregularities...that have become known to us," the lord said with some hesitation. "Two seats that have been open, one of them for countless years, have had their title taken up...by the same person." Instantly, the entire chamber was filled with the whispers. It was quite rare for someone to hold two chairs as it meant that they were the last of both lines, but if that happened it was usually through marriage or some other situation. For someone to suddenly have two chairs... It was quite the oddity.

"The two chairs," Lord Adair continued, his voice rising above the din, "Belong to House Black and House Peverell."

This time the whispers broke out into loud exclamations as people began to talk boisterously amongst themselves. "Order! Order!" Fudge called out. Still people shouted in outrage, and Fudge sucked in a deep breath "I said _order_!" After several minutes, people finally began to quiet down.

"But how can that be!" one woman called out to Lord Adair from the crowd. "The only Blacks left are in Azkaban and the late Lord Arcturus Black named no heir in his will!"

"And what about the Peverell family!" Another person shouted. "No one has held the title of Lord Peverell in centuries! It's a dead family!"

When everyone finally settled down Lord Adair was able to explain that they didn't know how this had happened or even who the person was. All they knew from records was that there was now a Lord Peverell-Black.

Above all, Dumbledore was highly disturbed by this new development. A frown stretched across his face and the ever-present twinkle was gone from his eye. The business with this new Lord Black was very worrying; he only hoped that he could sway the man toward the Light so that he would not follow the path of his predecessors. What really bothered him however was that the man was the new Lord Peverell. Did he know anything about the Deathly Hallows? Did this have any connection to the missing Elder Wand? But that wasn't how the wand worked; whoever had defeated its previous holder owned it. He knew the Wand hadn't been stolen because the wards hadn't been touched, but that meant that the only explanation left was that the Wand had disappeared on its own. The whole situation was very strange.

Finally the Wizengamot began to move on from their discussion of the Lord Peverell-Black. Nothing could be done about the man after all, except to have a letter sent to him informing him that he had been appointed to the Wizengamot.

"There second irregularity," Lord Adair continued, "is also quite strange. We have received word that Harry James Potter is now Lord of House Potter." Again the chamber erupted into noise, this time even louder than ever before. All of the people gathered there were shocked not only at the association of a minor, but even more so because it was their "savior".

This time it was Dumbledore who restored order to the chamber. Few had heard him raise his voice before, so when he called for silence they were quick to comply with his orders. When everyone had fallen silent, Dumbledore turned his attention back into Lord Adair.

"Harry Potter is a minor," Dumbledore said firmly. "One can only gain the status of Lord after reaching the age of seventeen."

Lord Adair shrugged helplessly. "I _know_," he said raising his hands in exasperation. "But that doesn't change the fact that he has been recognized by the Ministry, by Gringotts, and by magic _itself_ as Lord Potter!"

From there the chamber once again degenerated into mindless noise as everyone began to argue. Dumbledore made no attempt to stop it this time and instead sunk back into his seat, his frown deepening. Everything surrounding Harry Potter was starting to become deeply enfolded in mystery and he didn't like it one bit.

"—Regardless," Lord Adair was saying to Fudge above as the commotion started to calm down once again, "A letter will be sent to Lord Potter inviting him to the Wizengamot—"

Dumbledore stood up once more. "There is no need," he said. "I will deliver the letter to him personally." When Lord Adair stared hard at him he opened his arms in a gesture of helplessness. "He is a student at my school. It will be faster and I will be able to explain the workings of the Wizengamot to him." Lord Adair's lips thinned but finally he nodded in agreement and Fudge voiced his agreement as well.

From within the Family division, Lucius Malfoy spoke up, his smooth voice cutting across the chamber as easily as his sharp ice grey gaze. "I will alert the Board of Governors about this development as well. We should be able to work out a way for him to leave the school for each meeting."

Dumbledore nodded and sunk back into his seat, prepared to listen to the rest of the meting even as his mind swirled around other thoughts.

No, he didn't like this one bit.

* * *

Harry couldn't help but frown as he took a seat in the back of the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. The room around them smelt strongly of garlic and Harry was beginning to feel disappointed as he remembered what a joke the class was going to be this year. It was only more of a reason to help teach his friends to defend themselves.

As the class started, Harry's frowned only deepened. Quirrell stuttered so badly that everyone could barely understand him and he seemed to be generally weak, but every now and then when the man paused Harry could see his eyes flashing with dark intelligence. No, Quirrell was a dangerous opponent. That much was for sure. The only way he'd defeated him originally was due to that strange protection around him. Harry still needed to figure out how that worked. Did it have something to do with how all of a sudden any wounds he received started healing the instant that blood escaped them? No, that couldn't be it because it'd only started when he'd traveled to the past. Regardless, he needed to be more cautious this time around.

The only notable incident that occurred during the class was when Quirrel turned around once. Confronted with the back of his turban—and thus Voldemort—Harry felt his scar twinge. Harry was so used to it by now though that the sharp pain barely even registered. Not to mention that the pain had become much worse after Voldemort had fully returned in the...past? Future? It was difficult and confusing to figure out exactly how that worked.

By the time they got out of the class with an essay assigned for homework, Harry was completely silent, deeply involved in his own thoughts.

Knowing that he was in the same room with Voldemort had been...strange...to say the least. It had taken more restraint than he'd expected to stop himself from just jumping Quirrell right there and taking care of Voldemort once and for all. But it didn't work that way; if he did that then Voldemort would still live due to his other Horcruxes and he would know that Harry knew something about him.

No, Harry was just going to have to be patient. He could take care of Quirrell in due time but he had other, more important things to focus on in the mean time.

As Harry and his friends began to head toward the Great Hall for dinner Harry continued to remain silent. His friends were a bit worried at first, but after convincing them that he was just thinking they left him alone to his thoughts. The group sat down at the Gryffindor table this time and quickly fell into conversation with themselves and those around him.

"Deep thinker, eh?" a voice across from Harry suddenly interrupted his thoughts.

Harry looked up, surprised, to find Blaise taking a seat across from him. Several of the Gryffindors around him frowned slightly because he was a Slytherin, but they had all seen him sit with the rest of Harry's friends during breakfast so they said nothing.

Harry shrugged in response. "Perhaps," he answered, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

Suddenly, over Blaise's shoulder, Harry caught Dumbledore's eye. The man was staring at him, studying him. There was a strange look in his eye though, as if there was something that was bothering the headmaster that he couldn't figure out.

For a moment Harry felt pure cold fear clench at his heart. Had the man found out that he had the Elder Wand? Harry quickly pushed his irrationality down. No, that wasn't possible. And besides, even if he had he would have already confronted Harry about it. It must be about something else...But what?

Noticing Harry's gaze Blaise turned around to see what he was looking at. Upon discovering the staring contest that Harry and Dumbledore were engaged in, he turned back around and raised an eyebrow in Harry's direction.

Harry broke eye contact and looked back at Blaise. "What?"

Blaise studied Harry silently for a moment before suddenly shaking his head, a roguish smile coming onto his face. "You are a very interesting person," He replied, his grin widening. "Very interesting indeed."

Harry rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath. Blaise caught something about annoying Italian Slytherins and let out a bark of a laugh. The boy's amusement was contagious and Harry soon felt a grin slipping onto his face as well.

Nearly a half an hour later, Harry got up from the Gryffindor table, preparing to leave the hall with his friends. As soon as he turned around however he found McGonagall approaching him.

"Mr. Potter," she said formally and then handed him a folded piece of paper before waiting quietly.

His brow furrowing in confusion, Harry opened the slip of paper. It turned out to be a summons from Dumbledore, requesting that Harry meet him in his office. Harry looked up to McGonagall, confusion clear in his eyes, but she simply nodded.

"Please follow me," she said sternly. She walked out of the hall. Harry frowned and turned to his friends.

"Dumbledore wants to meet with me," he told them honestly.

Ron winced. "Ouch. Tough luck mate."

Hermione gently hit Ron on the arm. "Ronald," she growled. "I'm sure it's not a big deal. After all, Harry hasn't done anything to get in trouble." She paused and turned her glare onto Harry. "_Have_ you?"

Harry chuckled. "No, I haven't. I'm sure that he just...wants to meet with me." Even to his own ears his words sounded doubtful.

Regardless, Harry quickly waved goodbye to his friends and promised that he'd meet up with them when he was done.

Harry had to hurry to catch up with McGonagall. When he did he fell in step with her as she led them away from the crowds of students and down the familiar path towards the Headmaster's office. They strode along in silence until McGonagall stopped before the large, ugly stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the headmaster's office.

"Sugar quills!" McGonagall said. Harry suddenly was immensely grateful that McGonagall had come with him to the office; as he'd never visited Dumbledore during his original first year he hadn't known what the password was.

Upon hearing the password the gargoyle suddenly sprang to life and hopped aside as the wall behind it split in two. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like a Muggle escalator.

McGonagall gestured toward the staircase but did not step inside herself. As Harry moved onto it she gave him another nod, her face softening.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," she murmured and then, with a swish of her cloak, she was gone.

Harry gulped silently to himself as he rose upward in circles, higher and higher. Hearing the wall thud close behind him only increased his nervousness. He was fairly sure that the meeting wasn't anything to be worried about, but this would be the first time that he'd see the elderly man face to face since he died. And that had been two years ago for Harry.

Harry honestly wasn't sure how he felt about Dumbledore. He respected the man greatly, that was to be sure, but he had also screwed up his life irreversibly. And now even more so, for the simple fact that he now knew that all along Dumbledore had kept him alive just to die at the right moment, to bring down Voldemort... Harry shook his head sadly. He just didn't know what to think of the man; though his intentions were good, his actions were not.

And as the saying goes, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Before Harry's thoughts could go any further he suddenly found himself standing at the top of the stairs in front a gleaming oak door with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin.

Harry took one last deep breath and then raised a hand and knocked soundly on the door.

"Enter."

* * *

A/N: It's been a while. I could go into a full explanation for why, but, frankly that would just a waste of time. So instead I'll just say that the next chapter will be out much sooner.

Also, apparently FF has eaten all of my lines/scene breaks. I'll get around to fixing that sometime.

In canon Harry doesn't have his first Potions class until Friday. I'm purposefully changing this because, honestly, that doesn't make sense to me for them to only have potions once a week, considering the relatively small number of classed they have. So instead I have written up an entirely new schedule for Harry, though you as readers will never see it—it'll be a reference for me as I write. Harry will still have double Potions on Friday, now he'll just also have it on Monday.

[Shi]


	9. Chapter VIII: The Meeting

Summary: Harry Potter is just an eccentric school boy with some unusual talents. Lord Peverell-Black, on the other hand, is a magically and politically powerful man with the world at his fingertips and a war at his doorstep. [Time travel, no pairings.]

* * *

Shards of Time: The Master of Death

Chapter VIII  
_The Meeting_

* * *

"_One should rather die than be betrayed. There is no deceit in death. It delivers precisely what it has promised. Betrayal, though...betrayal is the willful slaughter of hope." - Steven Deitz_

Dumbledore's office looked just the same as it always had throughout the many years Harry had visited there, although, of course, all of the objects which Harry had rashly destroyed during his fifth year were still there. As per usual, the headmaster's claw-footed desk sat at one end of the room while the walls that didn't contain windows were covered in the portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses. Most of them were awake, though some were snoozing.

Behind the enormous desk sat Albus Dumbledore, his long silver hair splayed out around him and his blue eyes twinkling fiercely. "Welcome, Harry," he greeted jovially. He then gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat. And don't worry; you're not in trouble."

Harry did so, sinking into the familiar chair that he'd sat in so many times over the years. Instead of relieving his fears however, Dumbledore's words only made him tense up even further. If he wasn't in trouble, then why did Dumbledore want to speak with him? He hadn't summoned him to his office the first time around...

As Harry sat nervously before Dumbledore, the older man studied Harry. The boy was nothing like he expected. Sure, he looked like just a normal, albeit small, first year boy, but everything else about him screamed that this wasn't the case. He walked with a strange confidence—not arrogance, as Snape would claim, but a confidence in his abilities, a belief that he could easily handle anything thrown at him. He easily interacted with those around him, but at the same time there was an odd maturity about him that made him stick out. He acted much the same as upper year students did while tutoring their juniors.

Above all however, it was Harry's eyes that caught Dumbledore's attention. Those eyes...they didn't belong to a child. They were jaded and spoke of wisdom beyond his years, of a difficult past, and of a person who had seen far too much in their life. Dumbledore had only seen those eyes on a few people, and most of them had been war veterans who were many times Harry's age.

For the life of him, Dumbledore couldn't figure out exactly what had happened to Harry that had caused the boy to turn out like this. He seemed to have had an all right time growing up, and this idea was only increased by the confidence that Harry seemed to hold. But then what had caused him to become as mature as he appeared to be? What had caused him to grow up so quickly?

There was no doubt in Dumbledore's mind Harry Potter was an enigma, one that he swore to figure out, no matter what the consequences.

"Sir?" Harry began hesitantly. "Why did you ask to meet with me?"

Dumbledore's benign smile widened, giving away none of the thoughts within his mind. "Well, I wanted to finally meet you, of course!" he replied jovially. "Your parents were dear friends of mine. It's amazing how much you look like them; you have James' face and Lily's eyes."

Harry smiled tightly. "Thank you, sir. What is it that you wanted though?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Ah, a bright one I see. Yes, you're right; I didn't call you up here just for that." Dumbledore sighed, his smile falling away. He suddenly looked much older than he was. "There are some...matters...which have come up that regretfully involve you." Without another word, the elderly headmaster handed Harry a letter made of thick parchment that was bound with a golden silk ribbon.

Harry took the letter, his brow furrowing in confusion. Of all the things that he'd expected to happen upon entering the office, being given a letter was not one of them. And seeing Dumbledore's grave face only increased his confusion. With no small amount of trepidation, Harry undid the ribbon, opened the letter, and began to read. In curling, flowery letters, it read:

_Lord Potter,_

_Due to your heritage you have been given a seat on the Wizengamot in the Family division. Though your presence is not required, your seat and vote are highly regarded and the Wizengamot would gladly welcome you to its chambers. The next meeting is to be held on Septembers 15th. We expect your presence no later than 14:00._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Lord Richard Adair_

_(Lord of House Adair, Chief Familia, International Magical Commerce Chairman, Head of the Magical Artifact Preservation Committee)_

For several moments, Harry stared blankly at the letter before him, his mind working overtime to process its short but concise contents. He was being offered a spot on the Wizengamot? The _Wizengamot_? His face still blank from shock, Harry looked up at Dumbledore, who smiled sadly.

"Yes, Harry," the older man said tiredly. "You are indeed the Lord of House Potter. You see, while far from being amongst the oldest, your family is still quite old and has been respected for many years. Over time it eventually earned a place on the Wizengamot council. This seat has been in your family for many generations and has now been passed down onto you."

Harry felt his mouth opening and closing several times as he struggled to say something. Either ignoring or just not noticing his difficulty, Dumbledore continued.

"You must understand the gravity of this situation, Harry," he said. "Under normal circumstances you would not bear the mantle of Lord of House Potter until reaching your majority at the age of seventeen."

"Do you know why I've gained the title?" Harry asked quietly.

Dumbledore paused for a moment, his hands folded before him. "I..." he began slowly, "I suspect that it is because you are the last of your line."

Harry nodded, outwardly seeming to accept the explanation, but on the inside he was fuming. '_Bullocks!_' he thought angrily. '_I'm sure that there have been many others who were the last of their line and they've never become the Lord or Lady of their house until their majority! And you know it too!_' Granted, Harry knew the real answer to his question, which was part of the reason why he was so pissed off at Dumbledore's reply. Were they back to the lies and the half-answers again? Why couldn't he have just outright said that he didn't know?

He wondered if he'd ever be able to trust Dumbledore. He didn't want the blind trust that he'd had when he was a child, just the natural trust between two human beings. And it was made all the worse by the knowledge that Dumbledore honestly thought he was doing the right thing.

"Before you ask any more questions, I'd first like to explain to you exactly what this Wizengamot is and how it works."

Harry quickly pushed his anger away as curiosity took over him. He didn't understand why he was being invited to the Wizengamot, so hopefully this would make everything much more clear.

"The Wizengamot is a body within the Ministry of Magic that makes decisions regarding laws and acts as a high court. It is separated into three divisions: the Ministry division, the Warlock division, and the Family division. Each division is made up of 25 people—75 total—and has a single elected leader.

"The Ministry division is composed of the heads of the seven departments in the Ministry of Magic and a group of eighteen people chosen by the heads—two for each department head and four by the Ministry of Magic himself. These departments are the Department of Magical Games and Sports, the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, the Department of International Magical Cooperation, the Department of Magical Transportation, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the Department of Mysteries, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The Wizengamot itself is technically a division of the last department. The leader of the Ministry division is always the Minister of Magic. He is also the one who conducts the Wizengamot meetings.

"The Warlock division of the Wizengamot is made up entirely of people elected to the Wizengamot. These people come from all walks of life and help to diversify the Wizengamot. The leader of the Warlock division is called the Chief Warlock. I currently serve that position.

"The Family division is the division that you'll be joining. It is composed of old pureblood wizarding families, hence its name. The seats held by those in the Family division are hereditary—the only hereditary seats in council. The leader of the Family division is called the Chief Familia—familia is Latin for family—and the current leader is Lord Adair. As you can see, he's the one who sent you that letter."

Harry paused for a moment as his mind quickly processed all of the information he had just been given. He hadn't known that the Wizengamot was split into three divisions. When he'd stood before the Wizengamot when he was fifteen, it'd just seemed like a mass of people.

Finally, he spoke up. "How often are the elections held?"

Dumbledore's eyes widened momentarily in surprise, though he managed to smooth out his expression quite quickly. "The elections for the Warlock division are staggered every three years with five people being removed/elected each time. The Chief Warlock and Chief Familia are elected for their respective divisions every two years."

Harry nodded. He only had one main question left, "How often are Wizengamot meetings held?"

Dumbledore thoughtfully tapped the side of his nose. He hadn't expected Harry to so easily be able to process the information that he'd given him—most children wouldn't be able to. But this was good; it meant that he was bright and caught on to things quickly.

"Well," Dumbledore began, "The Wizengamot is split up into two terms: The Summer Term and the Winter Term. The Winter Term begins on September 1st—today—and ends in December on the Winter Solstice. The Summer Term begins on March 1st and ends in June on the Summer Solstice. During the months between the two terms (January, February, July, and August) the Wizengamot is in recess and no meetings are held.

"During each term there is one meeting held each month, which translated to four meetings total per term, plus the opening and closing meetings. These meetings are held on the 15th of each month. These meetings are generally held for discussion and it's during them that laws are presented, voted upon, and either passed or declined. In between these meetings trials are held—as I said before the Wizengamot is the high court of the Ministry. Trials are optional for those on the Wizengamot to attend, except for the Warlock division."

Again, Harry nodded. This meant that he'd probably have to leave school once a month for the main meetings. Harry looked back up at Dumbledore and nodded firmly once more.

"Thank you, Professor."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Of course, Harry, of course. Do you have any more questions right now?" Harry mutely shook his head. "Well then, I have just one question for you: Do you accept your family's seat on the Wizengamot, knowing the responsibilities that you'll be given? You'll also have to begin managing your family's accounts, you know."

Harry paused for a moment, sincerely thinking about it. He hadn't wanted anyone to find out about his "age" but it seemed that he had no choice. Accepting the seat, however, meant that he'd have at least some sway in the Ministry. Harry had already planned to get some sort of political hold the Ministry, and this was the perfect legal way to do so. He would know what was happening in the Ministry, and in the world.

"Yes," Harry said softly. "I accept."

Dumbledore beamed at Harry, though on the inside he was frowning. Truthfully, he wasn't sure whether he had wanted Harry to accept or not. While it would teach the boy a lot about responsibility and prepare him for what was to come, he was still just an eleven year old child. Dumbledore had to admit to himself though that the boy seemed to be ready. He was far more mature than he should be at his age, so maybe having a seat on the Wizengamot would help him in the long run.

Dumbledore stood up, walked around his desk, and then while humming a joyful tune under his breath began to pull several books off one of the many bookshelves that littered his office. Once he had a pile of the ones that he wanted Dumbledore placed them onto his desk in front of Harry.

"These are some books that I believe shall help you," he told the young wizard jovially. "I suggest that you try to read at least some of them before the 15th. Speaking of which, on September 15th I'll take you to the Wizengamot myself directly after lunch."

Curious, Harry peeked at the titles of the books that Dumbledore had given him. They all seemed to be about politics and law. Among them were ones such as _Legislative Guide to Proper Use of Magic_, _Extraordinary Trials in History_, _Law and Literature_, _Ancient Law_, and _Magical Misdemeanors in the Modern Law_.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Sir, why are there books here about the 'proper use of magic'?" he asked.

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Harry, you are technically of age now in the wizarding community, even if you aren't actually 'of age'. Though you probably don't know about it, students under the age of seventeen are not allowed to use magic outside of school. Since you're of age however, this restriction does not apply to you. I am giving you these books to show you what the law is regarding the use of magic. I expect, and certainly hope, that you'll be responsible enough to use your magic wisely."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said with a smile. Though he'd read some books about politics, these books would definitely help him to prepare further.

As Harry began to leave, he came face to face with Fawkes on his perch next to the office door. Harry paused for a moment, staring at the bird, and then, with a small smile on his face, approached him. Fawkes trilled lightly as Harry gently pet his head.

"Ah, fascinating creatures, phoenixes," Dumbledore said from behind Harry. "This is Fawkes. I've had him for quite some time."

"He's beautiful," Harry murmured. He leaned closer to Fawkes then and whispered so quietly that not even Dumbledore could hear, "Could you bring me the Sorting Hat?" If his suspicions were correct, Fawkes would do so.

Fawkes trilled in response to Harry's question. The young wizard couldn't figure out whether he was actually replying or not, but he smiled anyway.

Harry glanced back at Dumbledore only once as he moved toward the office door. "Good night, Professor." And then the door clicked shut behind him

Into the now empty room, Dumbledore whispered quietly, "Good night, young Harry." Fawkes only stared at him.

* * *

"So?" Ron asked when Harry entered the Gryffindor common room later than evening. "What did Headmaster Dumbledore want?"

Ron, Hermione, and Neville had all been waiting for Harry in the common room. Almost as soon as he'd stepped inside they pulled him into a corner and began to question him. Harry glanced around at the three curious faces—it still felt weird to have a young, nervous Neville as a part of the group—and sighed. He had no reason to hide what had happened from them, especially since everyone would probably learn about it soon enough.

"I..." Harry hesitated, unsure how to word his sentence. "I've been made the new Lord of House Potter..."

Instantly, three faces gaped at him in pure shock, Ron and Neville more so than Hermione.

"But— but—" Neville stuttered. "You have to be seventeen for that!"

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "I know. Not even Dumbledore understands why I've been given the title, though I believe that he suspect that it has something to do with the Killing Curse." That _was_ the only logical explanation, after all.

"Are you going to be on the Wizengamot then?" Neville asked hesitantly.

Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion at the unfamiliar word. "Wizengamot?"

Harry nodded mutely at Neville and then turned to Hermione. "The Wizengamot is the high court of the wizarding world," he told her, using his new knowledge of the government. "It proceeds over trials and passes laws."

Hermione still looked confused. "But why would you be on the Wizengamot?"

This time it was Ron who jumped to answer. "All of the really old wizarding families have a seat on the Wizengamot," he said. "Once Harry became the Lord of House Potter he automatically inherited his family's seat." Ron paused for a moment and then suddenly exclaimed, "Wait! This means that you're going to get out of school once a month! Mate, that's so unfair..."

Hermione ignored Ron's grumbling and just continued with her questioning. "Does that mean that you'll a seat when you're of age, Ron?" she asked. "And what about you, Neville?"

Ron's ears turned scarlet and he mumbled something along the lines of "no". Neville meanwhile, nodded shyly.

"The Longbottoms have had a seat for a while," the young boy elaborated. "My gran is serving on the Wizengamot right now."

Hermione nodded her understanding and then fell silent. Harry recognized the expression on her face as meaning that she was going to be doing quite bit of researching in the future.

* * *

The next few days of classes passed by quickly. In all of Harry's classes they were starting off purely with theory, so Harry didn't really have to worry about how he would do on the practical part until next week.

Harry had, however, had to deal with the staring and whispering of the other students. It may have been just the same as it had been the first time around, but that didn't mean that he had to like it. He'd gotten too used to just blending in, to the other students easily accepting his presence as normal. Harry desperately hoped that they'd settle down soon.

Harry had also taken to spending quite a bit of time in the library to Hermione and Terry's joy, Ron and Draco's annoyance, and Susan and Blaise's amusement. He was researching a lot about wizarding culture, politics, and history, as well as magic. Already he'd started formulating a list of spells that were advanced but wouldn't be too strange for a first year to know.

On Friday morning Harry was surprised to find two owls—Hedwig and a tawny brown post owl—drop off letters for him. The one that Hedwig delivered turned out to be a not from Hagrid, inviting him over for lunch the next day. Harry smiled warmly and penned back a reply. He'd go up to the Owlery later and send it off to Hagrid since Hedwig and the second owl had long since left. The second letter was thick and had Gringotts official seal on the back. Harry immediately slipped the letter away, knowing better than to open it in public.

After breakfast Harry and his friends whipped off to Potions. They only had double potions that morning and then had the rest of the afternoons off.

In Potions they were making a simple boil curing potion. Harry was surprised to find that, due to his increasing skill over the years, the potion was incredibly easy for him to make. Being paired with Draco—who seemed to be naturally talented with potions, to his surprise—only made it that much easier.

Harry was also astonished to find that while Snape was still very critical of his work, it was different kind of critical than he was used to. It wasn't so much of nitpicking as it was a careful examination of the actual quality of his work.

This time around Neville managed to avoid blowing up his cauldron, thanks to Theodore. Due to this Snape didn't really pay attention to him, so Neville's fear of the man didn't start to build as it had in the original timeline. With any luck this would mean the Neville would have at least a bit more confidence to start out with. Already Harry was starting to notice a difference between this Neville and the one that he'd originally known. Who knew that just having friends could have such an impact in such a short amount of time?

When the class was over Harry and Draco handed a sample of their finished potion to Snape, received their homework, and then left the room.

As they walked out of the dungeons, Ron groaned. "That greasy bastard wouldn't leave me alone the whole class period!" he grumbled.

Instantly, Draco glared at the boy, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists. "Well maybe if you'd actually paid _attention_ to your potion—"

Ron stopped and turned to glare at Draco. The blonde stopped as well and they engaged in a bit of a staring—or glaring, rather—contest.

"I would pay attention if Snape didn't bloody _lurk_ so much!"

At the same moment Ron and Draco swiftly drew their wands and pointed them at each other, still glaring.

Hermione quickly stepped up to the two. "Don't fight!" she hissed. "Dueling is forbidden in the halls!"

Simultaneously, Ron and Draco turned to the bush haired witch. "Stay out of this!" they both yelled. Hermione jerked back, surprised by their reaction. She continued to stare for a moment as the boys turned their glares back on each other before letting out a huff and stalking away, grumbling something about "immature boys".

Harry then stepped forward, hoping to get at least a slightly better reception. "Come on, guys," he said while grasping their wrists gently and lowering their arms. "She's right; don't fight here. And definitely not over this." Harry let out a sigh. "Draco, ease up a bit on Ron—Snape _is_ kind of unfair to Gryffindors. And Ron, you _should_ pay a bit more attention to your potion; if you're not careful it could explode."

Draco and Ron lowered their wands, but Ron's ears turned even further red and he turned his glare on Harry.

"Oh, sure, take his bloody side!" Ron exploded angrily.

Harry sighed and rubbed his temples. "I'm not taking sides, Ron. I just—"

"Whatever," Ron snapped. He turned around and stormed off.

Harry let out another sigh. It was so difficult to deal with his friends when they acted like such...children! Yes, they were in fact children, and yes Ron had always had a bit of a temper, but it was still difficult. Like dealing with mere shades of what his friends had grown to be. He was already starting to miss the Hermione who had had more patience and had acted like a mediator whenever he and Ron had a row.

"Look," Harry said tiredly to the rest of his friends. "I need to go to the Owlery. I'll meet up with you all later." With a small wave, Harry left his friends and hurried though the halls of Hogwarts.

It only took Harry a few minutes of navigating through Hogwarts to finally reach his destination. Harry couldn't help but smile when Hedwig hooted at him from up in the rafters.

"Here girl," Harry murmured quietly while holding out his arm. Without a moment's hesitation the snowy owl sailed down from her perch and landed on her owner's outstretched arm. She hooted once affectionately and then stuck out her leg, apparently already knowing what Harry wanted.

The dark haired wizard chuckled softly. "Good girl," he said as he gently pet her plumage. He was still marveling at the fact that Hedwig was back with him once again. It almost felt like some strange dream, but he knew without a doubt that it was all real.

Mutely Harry tied his reply onto Hedwig's leg and then let her take off. He stared out the open arches as Hedwig soared through them, watching her until she disappeared out of sight. He released a sigh as he leaned against the cold stone, his mind racing with thoughts and doubts. Finally he managed to push them all away, just in time to remember the second letter in his pocket.

Harry's eyes widened and he quickly pulled out the letter from Gringotts. He paused then, just before opening it, and then pulled out his wand as well. He wished that he also had the Marauders' Map with him, but until he managed to get it again he would have to improvise.

"_Homenum revelio_," Harry murmured quietly. He waited for a moment but there was no reaction, meaning that there were no people in the immediate vicinity. A few flicks of his wand later and there were also a few repelling and privacy charms on the Owlery so that he would not be disturbed.

Once Harry was sure that he was secure, he carefully opened up the envelope. To his surprise there turned out to be two letters inside, the second one in another envelope. Harry shrugged and just opened the first letter.

The letter turned out to be from Ragnok, asking to meet with him even earlier than they'd arranged. Harry stared at the letter for a moment, his mind whirling. The only reason why the goblin would ask for this was if something had gone wrong. Though wearing a frown, Harry simply sighed and continued to read. The last part of the letter said that the second envelope had been given to them, to forward to him.

Harry's frown deepened as he turned his attention onto the second envelope. He instantly realized that the letter, with its thick parchment and the golden ribbon holding it closed, looked just like the one that Dumbledore had given him.

Moving quickly, Harry pulled the envelope open and let his eyes scan across the message. True to his suspicions, it was from Lord Richard Adair and was almost exactly the same as the first one he had received except for several differences: it was addressed to Lord Peverell-Black and stated that he now had the seats for both the Peverell family and the Black family.

Harry's mind began to race. He hadn't even thought about the other families he was head of having seats on the Wizengamot, though in hindsight it should have been obvious. The Black family was said to be far older than even the Malfoys.

'_This is turning out perfectly!_' Harry thought as a grin began to curl at the corners of his mouth. He now had three seats on the Wizengamot, and with such names as the ones he had, he was going to have considerable political pull.

Suddenly Harry frowned. There was only one major, glaring problem: How could he go to the Wizengamot as both Lord Potter and Lord Peverell-Black? He was only one person. Harry sighed, but pushed the problem away from the time being. He had until fifteenth to figure out an answer. Though, granted, that was only a week away...

Harry let out another sigh and let his head hang down. He had absolutely no idea as to what to do.

Damn.

* * *

Harry stayed in the Owlery for another twenty or so minutes, letting his mind wander. Eventually his thoughts turned to the meeting that Ragnok had requested for that very evening. He'd have to sneak out and also figure out some way to bring the vanishing cabinet that resided in the Room of Requirement with him.

The major problem with that, however, was that he still didn't have Gryffindor's sword. He had hoped the Fawkes had understood him and would be able to bring him the hat, but it seemed that his thoughts had been wrong. He'd have to figure out some other way to get the sword...

Harry let out a sigh and was just about to leave when suddenly a ball of flame burst into existence just in front of him. Harry leapt back, instantaneously drawing his wand from his pocket. He needn't have worried though, as just moments later the fire dissipated to reveal Fawkes.

Harry took a moment to gape at the phoenix before him, half because of his sudden appearance, half because of what was clutched in his claws: the sorting hat. Harry relaxed and slipped his wand away, a smile coming to his face.

Fawkes trilled lightly, flew over to Harry's shoulder, and then dropped the sorting hat into Harry's hands. As Harry's smiled widened in delight he gently stoked Fawkes' plumage.

"Thanks, old friend," he murmured.

Harry reached into the sorting hat, hoping desperately that he was still enough of a Gryffindor for this to work. He let out a relieved sigh when his hand closed around cool metal.

After pulling Gryffindor's sword out of the hat, Harry thanked Fawkes profusely. He still wasn't sure about exactly what was going on with the phoenix, but he was satisfied to merely accept the help for the time being. Fawkes trilled once more, picked up the sorting hat, and then disappeared in another burst of flame.

Harry sighed as he stared at the sword in his hands. Now that he had it he would be more than ready for his meeting with the goblins the next day. All that he had to do now was manage to slip away.

Thank Merlin for Apparition.

* * *

An hour later found Harry in the Great Hall with his friends, eating lunch. They were at the Slytherin table at the moment, so Draco and Theodore were with them as well. Ron was currently at the Gryffindor table, having refused to sit with all the Slytherins.

Upon leaving the Owlery Harry had shrunk Gryffindor's sword and put it in his pocket. He'd then made a quick trip up to the Gryffindor common room and stashed the sword in his tightly locked trunk.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione said once lunch began to end. "Didn't you say that you were going to visit Hagrid?"

Harry nodded to her and then suddenly turned to Draco. "Do you want to come?" he asked. "I don't think that you've properly gotten to meet him yet."

Draco sniffed imperiously, a slight sneer coming to his face. "That oaf? You're going to visit _him_?"

Harry frowned at Draco, causing the boy to suddenly freeze up, as if just realizing what he'd said and to whom.

"Hagrid knew my parents," Harry told the blonde. "And besides, he's the _groundskeeper_!" he added in an excited voice. "He must know _everything_ about Hogwarts' grounds!"

Draco paused for a moment, considering what Harry had just said. "Well, _perhaps_," he said out grudgingly.

Harry felt his grin widened. "And you haven't met him yet either, right? Then you won't know until you do."

Draco didn't look happy at the revelation of this logic, but nodded in agreement. Harry had to stop himself from sighing aloud. He was glad that he was slowly starting to change the blonde's view, but he'd never known that the boy would be so _stubborn_.

Before long lunch was over and Harry and his friends began to drift out of the Great Hall. Since they didn't have to meet Hagrid until three, they had several hours of free time. The boys wanted to go outside and enjoy the day, but Hermione was almost demanding that they start on their homework. After watching an increasingly heated argument between Ron and Hermione in amusement for several minutes, Harry finally stepped in.

"Hey, if we do get started now on our homework then we can get it done before the weekend," he stated. Ron swung around to glare indignantly at him, but Harry just smiled amiably back. "Think of it this way," he continued. "Once it's done you'll have the entire weekend to just relax and have fun. Plus, after going to Hagrid's we can spend some time exploring the grounds."

Ron expression turned into a frown and he averted his eyes. Sensing his stubbornness, Harry's smile strained slightly. Had Ron always been like this? Sure, both he and Harry had always been reluctant to do their homework and such, but surely they'd both understood the reason _why_ Hermione had always forced them to work. Harry was starting to feel for the Hermione that he'd known more and more.

"Hey Ron," Harry interjected, an idea popping into his mind. "Do you want to play wizarding chess later, after we visit Hagrid?"

The distraction worked perfectly and Ron immediately brightened up. "Yeah!" he exclaimed. "I love wizarding chess. I'm really good at it too, you know. None of my brothers can beat me!"

Harry smiled softly as Ron began to ramble on. Now there was the red headed Gryffindor that he knew.

* * *

By the time dinner rolled around, Harry was mentally exhausted. He had spent the two hours before meeting Hagrid in the library with his friends, including Draco and Theodore. They'd managed to get most of their homework done, yes, but they'd also spent half the time arguing. Or, rather, Ron and Draco had spent half the time arguing and throwing insults at each other. Harry was actually beginning to _miss_ the shy Ron that he'd met on the train a week ago.

Despite hostile environment, they'd managed to get quite a bit done. Harry himself had breezed through his homework faster than even Hermione. Having memories of six years of schooling really helped, to the point that the work was mostly mind numbingly boring.

At three Harry and his friends had made their way down to Hagrid's hut. The half-giant had been pleasantly surprised by the amount of people and had joyfully welcomed them all inside, including Draco. They'd then spent the next hour and a half talking to the man and avoiding eating his rock cakes.

Harry let out slow breath as he finished up his dinner in the Great Hall. That night would have to sneak out of Hogwarts and get to Gringotts. The difficult part of this would to be getting out and then back in without getting caught. He wasn't sure just what type of wards Dumbledore had around the school, so he could only hope that they weren't ones that would detect his presence. But it was a risk worth taking.

In the end Harry had to wait until that evening before getting a chance to leave. He slipped away from his friends in the Gryffindor common room and headed up to the dormitories with the excuse that he was tired and wanted to go to sleep early. Once there he pulled the curtains around his bed close, placed a disillusionment charm on himself, and then placed a lock charm on his curtains. With Gryffindor's sword placed securely his pocket, he snuck out of the dorms.

It didn't take Harry too long to reach the Room of Requirement. After making sure that no one was around he quickly walked back and forth in front of the seemingly blank stretch of wall three times before slipping inside the door that appeared.

The inside of the Room of Requirement was incredibly messy, just as Harry'd expected. Piles and piled of junk filled the massive cathedral-like room for as far as Harry could see. All of it was things that'd been lost or placed there over the centuries.

Harry easily navigated through the mess. It had been only hours before he'd "died" that he'd last been there, so he definitely remembered where the vanishing cabinet was. This proved to be true as after only just a minute the large wooden cabinet cane into view. Harry grinned happily not only at it, but at Ravenclaw's diadem which sat next to it.

Harry reached out for the Horcrux only to pause as a sudden thought came to his mind. Voldemort was already in the school via Quirrell. What if he came to check up on the diadem? If he found that it was missing he would automatically suspect that someone knew of his Horcruxes. He would then go to check on the others and, well...Needless to say, that wouldn't be good. He could easily hide the ones that Harry didn't have yet so that no one would be able to find them

With a sigh Harry let his hand fall. As much as he hated to, he would have to leave the diadem here for now; he could collect it after his first year. There was the possibility that the diadem could be moved, of course, but he would just have to take that risk. He would have to trust that the timeline would follow its original path in regards to it.

Harry instead turned his attention back on the vanishing cabinet. He circled around it once, making sure that there was nothing leaning on it, and then turned to face an empty stretch of floor.

"Kreacher!" he called out.

With a crack the elder house-elf appeared. "Master Black, sir?" he croaked out.

Harry gestured to the cabinet beside him. "Please take this to Grimmauld Place," he said. "Once there wait for me to call you again. When I do, bring the cabinet with you."

Kreacher nodded eagerly. "Of course Master Black sir. Kreacher will wait!" And with that the elf touched the vanishing cabinet and both he and it disappeared with another, louder crack.

Harry let out a breath of air and then began to stride out of the room. Now all he had to do was get out of the castle without getting caught. That part would be aided by the disillusionment charm that he still had on and liberal use of the _homenum revelio_ charm. Thus in only ten or so minutes Harry managed to safely get out of the castle and onto the grounds.

The first thing that Harry did was to head over to the edge of the Forbidden Forest near where Hagrid's hut was. He needed to speak with Xiuhcoatl, the Brazilian boa constrictor that he'd freed, partially because he hadn't gotten around to it yet, partially because he thought that the snake might be able to help him with something.

A few feet into the forest where Harry had directed the snake to go, he paused. "_**Xi?**_" he called out. "_**Xi, are you here?**_" For a moment nothing happened and Harry was beginning to wonder if the snake had wandered off, when suddenly something dropped down directly in front of him.

Harry let out a yelp and stumbled backward, quickly drawing his wand as he did so. His expression changed from surprise to a glare, however, when his eyes finally focused and saw that it was Xiuhcoatl who wan dangling in front of him, hanging from a branch up above. The snake looked highly amused, though Harry wasn't quite sure how he could tell.

"_**Xiii,**_" Harry whined in annoyance.

Xiuhcoatl let out a snake's version of a laugh, which sounded like a strange, strangled sound to Harry's human ears. The boa constrictor then allowed himself to drop further from the branch so that he could wrap around Harry's shoulder.

"_**There's much to eat here,**_" Xiuhcoatl hissed into Harry's ear, "_**But also many predators. The magical horse-men patrol the forest daily.**_"

Harry started in surprise. Horse-men? Hmm, Xiuhcoatl must mean centaurs. He then paused to process that information. He'd known that the centaurs patrolled the Forbidden Forest, but not that they did so close enough to the edge for Xiuhcoatl to see them. Why did they feel the need to? Surely it wasn't just because Voldemort visited the Forest from time to time.

Xiuhcoatl tightening around his shoulder pulled Harry from his reverie. "_**Thanks you for that information,**_" Harry told the snake. "_**However, I'm afraid that I'm not just here to chat. There's something that I need to ask of you...**_"

"_**Speak, and I will listen, Speaker.**_"

Harry hesitated regardless. "_**Can...Can you sense wards? You said that you can sense wizards and magic, so I thought...**_" Harry trailed off, waiting for a reply.

Xiuhcoatl tilted his head to the side, considering the question. "_**I...believe that I can,**_" he answered finally. "_**There is a magic that permeates the air here, but it stops at the gate that we passed by a week ago when you brought me here.**_"

A grin came to Harry's face. Xiuhcoatl _could_ sense wards then. It was useful to know that the anti-Apparition wards stopped at that gate. He'd figured as much, but had no way to know for sure.

"_**Can you tell me how far the wards go into the forest?**_" Harry asked excitedly.

"_**Not from here,**_" came the reply. "_**I would have to go further in, until I could no longer feel the magic.**_"

Harry considered his options. The Forest was dangerous, which made it a bad idea even though he'd been in it many times before. The gate was much safer, but it was also the front entrance—which meant it could be watched, or have additional wards that checked who passed through it. There was always the secret tunnels that ran between the school and Hogsmeade though, he thought. They'd served him well in the past.

But then... It was already getting late and those tunnels were back up at the castle, while the forest was right in front of him.

"**_Then I guess we'll just have to explore the forest,_**" Harry said at last. This time at least, he amended to himself. It shouldn't be too far anyway, according to Xiuhcoatl. He'd be fine.

Xiuhcoatl nodded his agreement and then Harry began to walk forward, deeper in the Forest. He eventually had to light up his was with a _lumos_ charm when it got too dark to see. Even then it was still only possible to see a few feet in front of him.

After what must have been a half an hour they still hadn't come to the edge of the wards. Harry was starting to get a bit despondent when he abruptly noticed some light shining through the trees up ahead. He was wary, but soon relaxed when, upon closer inspection, it turned out that the light was just moonlight that was shining brightly though a clearing up ahead.

At the edge of the small clearing Harry paused. It wasn't smart to go out in the open, not in the Forbidden Forest. Harry was just about to take a detour around the clearing when Xiuhcoatl suddenly spoke up, his tongue flickering through the air.

"_**Here!**_" he hissed. "_**The magic ends here and the air goes empty.**_"

Harry blinked in surprise and turned back to the clearing. _This_ was where the wards ended? A smile sprang to his face. Perfect; he'd easily be able to remember this clearing to Apparate to and from.

Before Harry could take even one step into the clearing however, he suddenly caught movement from the cover of his eye. Harry's head snapped around to stare deeply into the forest, but as far as he could tell there was nothing there. Still, the feeling that he was being watched wouldn't go away. It was like and itch between his shoulder blades and it was starting to make him—and Xiuhcoatl, for that matter—jumpy. He was suddenly remembering that Voldemort would visit the Forest during his first year.

Quite suddenly there was a snap of a branch behind him. Harry spun around immediately, his wand raised and a spell on his lips. But before he could do anything he froze, staring in surprise and more than just a little fear at the sight before him.

* * *

A/N: To preemptively answer a few questions that will probably come up:

No, no one is going to figure out that Harry is from the future. They just believe that his whole age thing is some sort of side effect of being hit with the killing curse. This will be explored in more detail later in the story.

Yes, there's a reason why Fawkes is helping Harry other than "yay, plot device!". You'll figure it out when Harry does, although thinking a little bit about the nature of phoenixes might give you a hint.

Yes, Xiuhcoatl has a near-human level of intelligence. Technically this is physiologically impossible for an animal, but so is the near-human level of intelligence that Fawkes, Nagini, and the basilisk (and even Hedwig, at times) showed in canon. From that we can assume from that magical animals are naturally capable of higher feats of intelligence than their mundane counterparts. (And thereby I should also note that most other snakes that Harry would run into would have very base intelligence)

Yes, there's a reason why the "Lord Peverell-Black" letter was forwarded through Gringotts. It will be brought up in a couple chapters, for reasons that will be clear at that time.

And finally, there's been some questioning about why the Ministry is recognizing Harry as two people when the titles are all belong to one person. I'll say what I've pretty much always said before: Everything is this story has an explanation. You can try to figure it out, or find out when Harry does.

**Edit:** A reviewer has pointed out that the vanishing cabinet was not broken until Harry's second year, when Peeves drops it. Since I completely overlooked this, I have two options: To ignore that part of canon or go back and write the broken cabinet out of the story. For the moment I'll be doing the former, but if I do rewrite parts of the chapters, I'll announce it.

[Shi]


	10. Chapter IX: The Informant

Summary: Harry Potter is just an eccentric school boy with some unusual talents. Lord Peverell-Black, on the other hand, is a magically and politically powerful man with the world at his fingertips and a war at his doorstep. [Time travel, no pairings.]

* * *

Shards of Time: The Master of Death

Chapter IX  
_The Informant_

* * *

_"All men dream but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes to make it possible." - T.E. Lawrence_

Harry stared in surprise at the sight before him. He'd expect to have to face one of the dangerous creatures that inhabited the Forbidden Forest, perhaps even Voldemort himself. But _this_? While this was still a dangerous situation that he was in, at least it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

Harry slowly lowered his wand but didn't release his firm grip on it. Standing regally in front of him was an elder centaur, who Harry immediately recognized as Magorian, the leader of the centaurs. He had to be three meters tall, far more than twice Harry's height! All around him the faces of other centaur peeked out from the foliage. They were there, watching, but kept their distance from him, almost as if they were wary.

What really caught Harry's attention however was Bane, who was standing off to the side. Harry gulped slightly at the stormy expression on the black-haired centaur's face. Alright, this may not be as bad as facing Voldemort, but it _definitely_ was still a serious situation.

"It is dangerous to be wandering around the Forest this late at night, Harry Potter," Magorian said. Harry tore his gaze away from Bane to look at the speaker. He was staring down at Harry with dark, expressionless eyes.

"I-I know, sir," Harry squeaked. He then cursed himself and took a moment to compose himself. He took a deep breath and bowed. "Forgive me for trespassing on you lands."

The elder centaur's eyebrows nearly shot into his hairline, showing his surprise at the respect. Other centaurs mirrored his expression and several began whispering amongst themselves until others shushed them.

"You should be sorry!" Bane snarled while stepping forward. "What are you, a _wizard_, doing here?" Instantly Magorian whiled on him, teeth bared in anger.

"You overstep your place!" he warned harshly.

Bane spluttered anger. "We should allow no wizards onto our lands—!"

"We don't, but we have an agreement with the headmasters," Magorian interrupted coldly.

"There _is_ a rule against going into the Forest," Harry piped up.

Both Bane and Magorian swung their gazes back to Harry. "Then what are you doing here?" Bane demanded.

Unconsciously, Harry's eyes flickered back to the clearing. "I'm afraid that the wards have been a bit...restricting," he said brightly, internally hoping that he was making the right choice by telling them. "Had I had a way to contact you, however, I would have asked for your permission for entrance first. I understand that this forest encompasses your ancestral grounds."

Both Bane and Magorian looked surprised by this declaration, though Bane's look quickly turned into one of fury. "You dare mock us?" the centaur roared, rearing up on his hind legs.

Shocked, Harry took several stumbling steps backwards. But before Bane could attack, Magorian was suddenly between the two of them. He sent a powerful kick at Bane's chest, causing the younger centaur to fall backwards with a bellow. Magorian stood over him, asserting his power, while Bane scrambled backwards. Bane sent a heavily malice-laced glare at Harry before turning around and running off into the Forest.

Once the younger centaur was out of sight Magorian turned back around to face Harry. Silently he studied the boy for several minutes before giving him an almost imperceptible nod.

"The stars speak of you," Magorian finally said in a strong voice. His eyes shifted to the clearing and then back to Harry. "Go. But do not disturb the Forest. There are things that reside here that you should not yet meet." Harry was fairly sure that he'd be able to handle anything that the Forest threw at him, but for some unknown reason the centaur's words sent a shiver down his spine.

Without another word Magorian turned around and bounded off into the trees. After a few rustles of leaves the other centaurs were gone as well.

With a sigh Harry turned around and stepped into the clearing. At least the centaurs hadn't been spouting out cryptic riddles this time. Well, except perhaps for that last statement.

Harry spoke briefly with Xiuhcoatl and they both agreed that it'd be best for the snake to stay behind. He would wait on the edge of the clearing until Harry returned, at which point they would return to the edge of the Forest together.

Harry seared the image of the clearing into his mind for when he returned and then Disapparated with a quiet pop.

* * *

Only a few minutes later found Harry entering Ragnok's office on the top floor of Gringotts. As the doors closed solidly behind him, Ragnok glanced up. Upon seeing Harry his face split into a wide grin, revealing rows of pointed teeth.

"Lord Peverell-Black-Potter," he greeted as he stood.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the difference in Ragnok's attitude from the last time he'd been there, but didn't comment on it. He reached over the desk and firmly shook the goblin's hand.

"King Ragnok," he replied.

Ragnok's grin widened further. "Please, have a seat."

Harry smiled dryly and conjured a chair. Once he was seated Ragnok spoke up again while leaning eagerly over his desk.

"Do you have it?" he all but demanded.

Harry considered asking Ragnok what he meant, but then decided against antagonizing the goblin. Instead, he pulled out Gryffindor's sword from his pocket, unshrunk it, and laid it on the desk in front of Ragnok. Instantly the goblin king began to look it over, studying its minute details. Once he was satisfied that it was of goblin-make, and thus the real Gryffindor sword, he sat back and smiled.

"Well then," Ragnok began. "It seems that you've fulfilled your part of the deal. As for our part..."

"Oh, yes," Harry said, remembering the vanishing cabinet. "Kretcher!"

With a crack the house-elf appeared with the cabinet. He bowed to Harry and then disappeared again without a word.

Harry stayed seated but gestured at the cabinet. "This is the vanishing cabinet that I mentioned. You'll be able to take care of it...?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Ragnok murmured, his eyes scanning over the piece of furniture. "Our curse breakers should be able to fix it up in just a few days." Abruptly his eyes snapped back to Harry. "Which reminds me... I have, ah, come into possession something that I believe may interest you. It should help to solve your, ah, dilemma with attending the Wizengamot."

Harry's eyes narrowed, immediately recognizing that that Ragnok was referring to how he needed to attend the Wizengamot as two different people. "Go on," he prompted, curiosity getting the better of him.

Ragnok smirked widely. He then set on his desk an object that made Harry gasp in shock: a Time-Turner.

"How did you—?"

Ragnok grinned deviously. "We all have our sources for getting things," he replied.

Harry fell silent and gazed on the Time-Turner for several minutes. This...could solve all of his problems. Or at least his current pressing ones. He could attend the Wizengamot as both Lord Potter and as Lord Peverell-Black without anyone getting suspicious. And if anything occurred out of Hogwarts that took up too much of his time, he could just go back in time. It was perfect!

At the same time however, Harry was wary. Time-Turners were held under close guard in the Ministry and thus when found on the black market were _extremely_ expensive, even by Harry's monetary standards. It'd probably be cheaper to buy an entire estate than a Time-Turner. So what did Ragnok want in return then? Surely not gold; he already had more than enough of that. But what else did Harry have that he could want?

"And in return...?" Harry ventured, voicing his concerns.

"All of the goblin-made armor and weapons in the Potter and Black vaults."

Harry blanched, though a snarky voice in the back of his head asked him why he was so surprised. It wasn't that he _wanted_ the armor and weapons or anything, but rather that he knew that all of those items were worth quite a bit more than what it would cost to buy a Time-Turner.

Still, he thought as he studied Ragnok smirking face, that didn't matter. Ragnok wanted the items not for their monetary value but rather their "sentimental" value. Nothing short of all the weapons and armor would make him separate from that Time-Turner. Hell, he was probably hesitant to do so anyway. There was no way that Harry could bargain with the goblin king on this one. He needed that Time-Turner too much, and Ragnok knew it.

"Fine," Harry said finally. "But I have just one question... Why don't you want the things in the Peverell vault?"

Ragnok grimaced at that. "In order to separate the goblin-made items from the human-made items some goblins will personally have to go into the vaults," he admitted. "They cannot, however, enter the Peverell vault, which means that it's untouchable."

Harry couldn't help it: he laughed. "Well, if I see anything that you might like in the vault, I'll let you know," he joked.

Ragnok smiled wryly in return and then pulled out a paper to write out the contract for the trade for the Time-Turner. It wasn't an Eye for an Eye Agreement, but was a trade nonetheless. Once that was done and they'd both signed, Ragnok's face grew serious.

"There something else that I'd like to speak with you about," he said. "It involves our information agreement. We shall, of course, continue to supply you with important information, I figure that you might also want a more...personal...source.

"We have a reliable contact whom I believe would be a good informant for you. All that you'd have to do is meet with him whenever you need information. He's a bit shady, of course, but most informants have to be in order to get their information. His name is David."

Ragnok pulled out a wizarding photo from somewhere among his piles of paper and slid it across the desk to Harry. The wizard picked it up to study it.

The photo was of a single man, who looked to be in his later thirties, early forties. He had dark hair that was dashed with gray and dark brown eyes. As far as Harry could tell, he was of medium stature and looked to be quite fit.

The photo was a candid one, Harry saw. Most likely the man, David, hadn't even known that it'd been taken.

Harry considered the wizard for a moment. Ragnok was right; it would be very useful to have a wizard to get information from. He'd have to meet him man under an alias though, and _not_ as Harry Potter or Lord Peverell-Black. It wouldn't do to ruin his reputation as soon, after all.

Finally, Harry came to a decision. "Where do I meet him?" he asked

Ragnok grinned again. "At the Rosburg Tavern in Knockturn Alley. He'll be waiting for you there until midnight tonight. If you don't meet him by then, you'll never see him again."

* * *

After his meeting with Ragnok, Harry Apparated to Grimmauld Place. Immediately he began pacing back and forth in the entrance room. He needed to come up with another alias and disguise, and he needed to do it quick since it was already 11:30 pm.

Finally Harry stopped his pacing and began to finger his wand, an idea in mind. He touched the tip of his wand to the necklace around his neck. After murmuring the special glamour spell that he'd learned, he then checked his appearance in the long mirror on the wall.

Harry now appeared to be man in his early thirties with tanned, olive colored skin. He had a strong physique and stood at nearly 6'3. His head was completely shaven, though there was a short, black beard on his face. A pair of black irises peered out of almond shaped eyes. He looked almost...Egyptian, Harry realized. No one would ever connect the way he looked now with Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry couldn't help but grin toothily, revealing pearly white teeth. He also looked perfect to fit in with the residents of Knockturn Alley. Now all that he needed was a name and a cover story, in case anyone dug to deeply into his past.

* * *

Not ten minutes later Harry was striding down Knockturn Alley. He was dressed in black and had his cloak's cowl pulled up, though not enough to hide his face from view.

As Harry walked deeper into the alley, he was shocked both at how far it went and at how lively it was at this time of the night. The alley seemed to be a maze of smaller, interconnecting alleyways, sprawling outward away from Diagon Alley. Numerous people, all dressed in black cloaks, were out and about, heading from shop to shop.

Before too long Harry came to a building with the sign _Rosburg Tavern_ hanging out front. Upon stepping inside, he found that the place to be dim, but filled with many people. Numerous booths and tables were spread about the magically enlarged room.

It was in a booth in a corner of the room that Harry found the man he'd been looking for. David was leaning over a mug of Firewhiskey, his dark eyes scanning over the room. When he and Harry's gazes locked on each other, the younger wizard began to make his way towards the booth, his heart hammering loudly in his chest.

When Harry slid into the seat across from the informant, the first thing that he did was cast the Muffliato charm so that they wouldn't be overheard. Only then did he turn his full attention onto the other man.

"David."

The older wizard tilted his head in recognition. Glad that he'd chosen the correct person, Harry stretched an arm across the table and firmly shook David's hand.

"I am Mikael," he continued, using the alias that he'd come up with. "An associate of mine believes that you may be able to help me..."

* * *

With a quiet pop Harry Apparated into the clearing in the Forbidden Forest. A quick glance around assured Harry that no one was there, so he started walking over to the tree line, where Xiuhcoatl would be waiting for him.

Harry's meeting with David had gone quite smoothly. The man was surprisingly easy to talk to and Harry had gotten along with him very well. He had managed to set up a good deal with David—he was going to meet with him at Rosburg Tavern at the beginning of each month to get information on a wide variety of things, from what was happening in current politics, to where certain items could be found, to who was doing what illegal things. All of this would be helpful for the plan that he would eventually set in motion.

As soon as Harry reached the trees Xiuhcoatl revealed himself. He slithered up Harry's outstretched hand so that he could wrap himself around the young wizard's shoulders.

"_**Had fun?**_" the snake asked.

Harry couldn't help but crack a grin. "_**Why yes, I believe that I did.**_"

Some instinct caused Harry to look up. Upon doing so he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of a centaur standing not ten feet from him. At first Harry feared that it was Bane, back for revenge, but he soon recognized him as Firenze and relaxed marginally.

Seeing that he had Harry's attention, Firenze bowed at the waist. "Greetings, Harry Potter," he said. "I am Firenze. I was sent to escort you safely out of the Forest."

Harry blinked I surprised, but was quick to return Firenze's bow. "Ah, thank you," he said.

Harry and Firenze walked through the dark forest in silence. Harry didn't want to open his mouth for fear of saying something that he wasn't supposed to know about yet. Firenze, on the other hand, seemed to be incredibly nervous to just be near Harry. The young wizard was sure that Firenze hadn't been like this the first time around, but perhaps that was just because he'd been seeing the centaur from an awed, Muggle-raised child's perspective.

Before long, Harry felt himself beginning to slow as exhaustion weighed heavily on his body. He'd had a very busy night, and though his mind was eighteen years old, his body was still that of an eleven year old. Harry attempted to push his tiredness away, but it wasn't long before Firenze noticed it.

Firenze frowned and stopped walking. Surprised, Harry paused as well, looking back at the centaur with confusion.

"You..." Firenze began hesitantly, "...You are tired. Would...you like to ride me? We will get out of the Forest faster that way."

Harry stared at Firenze through wide, shocked eyes. Though he'd ridden Firenze before, that had been b in the middle of an emergency. For him to ask him to ride him now... It must be a big blow to his dignity, to offer such a thing, but it also showed his great capacity for compassion.

Slowly, Harry shook his head. "No," he replied. "I could not do that to you. I will be fine walking.

Firenze appeared to be surprised by Harry's refusal, but did not question it. Instead the two lapsed back into silence as they began to walk once more. This time, however, the centaur had a thoughtful look on his face.

Finally the two reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest. There, Firenze bowed to Harry once more. "Good luck, young wizard."

"Firenze," Harry said, just as the centaur began to turn away. "I...wish to pass through the forest several times a month, to reach the edge of wards. Could you please speak to Morigan about this, to see if we could come to some sort of arrangement?"

Firenze nodded slowly. "I will do so," he said. "But I can promise nothing."

And then he was gone.

* * *

By the time that the morning of September 15th had rolled around, Harry was nervous. _Very_ nervous. Today was the day that he'd have to go the Wizengamot, both as Lord Potter and Lord Peverell-Black. He desperately hoped that nothing would go wrong, but, considering his life so far, that seemed like to much to ask for.

The past week had been...interesting...to say that least. As the classes began to get into full swing, Harry was beginning to find himself very bored. Everything that they were being taught was stuff that was already almost second nature to him. Because of this, he was spending an inordinately large amount of time in the library, researching spells to teach himself, so that he could advance his education.

The highlight of the week, Harry thought, was the flying lessons that they'd had on Thursday, thee days ago. Through some miracle Harry had managed to calm Neville down enough to stop him from hurting himself this time around. Harry knew that originally it'd been because of that flying lesson that he'd gotten a place on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but... As much as he loved Quidditch, he honestly didn't have time for it. He was going to be insanely busy this time around, and wouldn't be able to go to practices and games like he had before, not with the Wizengamot and everything.

Harry groaned and rolled over to bury his face in his pillow. Eighteen or eleven, he was still far too young to be holding three seats in the Ministry.

Finally, after several minutes of moping around, Harry pulled himself out of bed and began to get dressed. He'd love for the morning to just disappear, but he knew that that wasn't going to happen, so there was no reason to act childish about it.

The rest of the morning passed in a whirlwind of nervous activity. Harry and studied with his friends, helping them with the homework that they hadn't finished. They'd formed a sort of small study group and met together several times a week in the library. It reminded Harry of the DA in a toned-down, Slytherin-included sort of way.

Eventually Harry found himself outside on his own, wandering around the grounds. He'd managed to slip away from his friends with the excuse that he needed to calm his nerves, which was definitely true.

As Harry walked he eventually spotted a large group of students up ahead. Noticing that they all were Gryffindors, Harry frowned and then began to make his way towards them. Once he'd pushed his way to the front of the crowd he found that the wizards' attention was on something in the distance.

Confused, Harry stared as well, and soon caught sight of someone hurtling towards them. Harry tensed for a moment, ready to run, but the figure curved into an aburpt halt about twenty feet from the group, in font of an older teen—a sixth year, Harry thought. The teen waved his wand immediately, causing some red numbers in front of him to freeze in their counting. Though Harry'd never seen such a thing before other than in the tempus charm, he suspected that it was some sort of a stopwatch charm.

Still slightly confused, Harry turned to an older girl who was standing next to him. "What's going on?" he questioned.

The girl looked surprised, but her expression quickly turned into a grin. "Broom racing," she explained. "Why? Would you like to try?"

Harry's expression turned pensive. He may not be going into Quidditch, but that didn't mean that he couldn't still fly every now and then. Finally, he shrugged.

"Sure, why not."

The girl's grin widened and she grabbed a hold of Harry's shoulder before dragging him over to the guy who'd preformed the stopwatch charm.

"Oi, Bryan!" she called out. "We've got another one!"

The teen, Bryan, turned to them. Upon seeing Harry, he cocked an eyebrow, surprised. He took a moment to look him up and down before finally shrugging.

"Well, he's got the build for it, at least," he commented. "Ever ridden a broom before, kid?"

Harry couldn't help but smirk, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Oh, a few times," he replied dryly.

Bryan raised his eyebrows in question for a moment before eventually shrugging again. "Whatever. Grab the broom and mount it in front of me. On my mark you'll take off. Fly straight to the marked tree down there, making sure to pass through the hoop on your way. Once there immediately turn around and come back, passing through the hoop again, and stop in front of me."

Harry looked up to the direction that Bryan was pointing in and immediately saw what he was talking about: There was a tree about two thousand yards away that had a red ribbon tied around it. Spaced evenly between Bryan and the tree was a large silver hoop that was floating a few feet off the ground.

With a shrug of his own, Harry strode over to where the broom that the previous boy had been flying was lying on the ground. Just as Bryan had described he mounted it in front of him, poised to take off at a moment's notice.

As soon as Bryan's call of "Go!" left his mouth Harry was off, rocketing off through the air. Used to a Firebolt as it was, he found the broom—a relatively new Comet Two Sixty—to be quite lagging and pushed it to go as fast as it could, leaning down almost flat against the handle. As he reached the levitating ring, he tightened his limbs against his body and leveled out his flight a bit until he'd whooshed through it.

In only seconds Harry reached the marked tree. Timing his moved carefully, Harry kept up his speed but then, right before the tree, pulled his handle up sharply, sending him flying back the way he'd come upside-down. By the time that Harry'd twisted himself upright once more he'd reached the ring again. He zoomed through and continued hurtling forward until he stopped abruptly in front of Bryan.

As he hopped off the broom Bryan gaped in shock at the numbers hanging in the air before him. Eventually his eyes slowly slid up to Harry.

"Bloody hell!" the sixth year exclaimed. "I didn't know that Comets could go that fast!"

The girl who had first dragged Harry over seemed to be in a state of shock as well. "Only ridden a _few_ times, you say?"

Finally Bryan seemed to break out of his shock and instantly leapt over to Harry. "You're on the team!" he exclaimed happily. "You're definitely on the team!"

Harry blinked in surprise and confusion. "The...team...?" he asked.

"Well yeah—" Bryan began, only to cut himself off. He stared at Harry for a moment. "You didn't even know that you were trying out?"

Harry blinked again. "...Trying out for what?"

"Why, the racing team of course! The Gryffindor racing team!" Bryan exclaimed. "You have to join! You're one of the best racers I've seen in a while, and your small size only makes you that much better!"

"Umm..." Still a bit confused, Harry titled his head to the side. Though he'd heard of broom racing before, he'd never even known that Hogwarts had had a racing team at school. Or four teams, rather, as seemed to be the case.

Harry took a moment to contemplate the team. Honestly, he was actually interested in joining. He'd never be able to join the Quidditch team due to lack of time, but broom racing was a much less competitive sport that he could do as a side hobby. Not to mention that it'd allow him to get to fly every now and then. Speed had always been his favorite part of flying after all...

Finally, Harry looked back up at Bryan, who was looking at him expectantly. "I don't know much about the sport," the younger boy admitted.

Almost eagerly, Bryan began to explain. "There four racing teams at Hogwarts, one for each house," he said. "Each team consists of five people. Six times a year the races are held, and the winner gets 50 points for their house. Which ever four people have the most wins by the end of the year—no matter their house—participate in a final race. The winner's house is awarded 100 points and that person also gets a trophy."

Harry felt a smile quirking at the edge of his lips. Broom racing was that big of a sport in the school and yet he'd been too busy to even hear of it before? How amusing.

Finally, Harry shrugged. "Alright," he said. "I'll join. But _only_ under one condition." At Bryan's inquiring look, he continued. "I won't attend practices. I'm just too busy."

Bryan looked surprised by Harry's demand, but slowly nodded. "Fine. But I'd recommend that you come to the first one, if only to get a feel for how the races will be. That practice will be held next Saturday at 4:00. You can meet us at the Quidditch pitch. And if you start to fall behind, I _will_ enforce practices."

"Fair enough," Harry agreed. Then, with a backwards wave at the sixth year Gryffindor, he began to walk back to the castle. The crowd split before him to let him through while watching him with wide eyes.

It took Harry another fifteen minutes to get to the library. Once there he headed over to the corner where several of his friends—Ron, Blaise, Hermione, Terry, and Susan—were sitting around a table and dropped into a chair with a sigh.

"Something happen?" Terry asked while raised a questioning eyebrow. "You seem more annoyed than angry now."

Harry let out a sigh. "I'm not _annoyed_, per say. It's just that...I've been recruited to join the broom racing team."

"Bloody hell!" Ron exploded almost gleefully. "And you're upset about that? That's bloody awesome!"

"Language!" Hermione snapped, lightly whacking the boy over the head. Harry chuckled at the two.

Blaise too was grinning at Harry. "That is awesome," he agreed. "I didn't know that you were that good of a racer."

Harry shrugged. "Well, I love flying, and since I don't want to join the Quidditch team..."

Once again Ron stared at Harry like he was insane. "You _don't_ want to join? Why the hell not?"

"Not enough time," Harry replied with another shrug. "I'd rather focus more on my schoolwork, not to mention that I'm probably going to be very busy with this Wizengamot business.

Blaise looked at Harry sharply. "Ah, yes, that's today isn't it? My father will be there. I hope you'll get to meet him."

A wry grin tugged at the edges of Harry's lips. "Me too," he murmured. "Me too..."

Before he knew it, 10:30 had rolled around and Harry was walking towards the Great Hall, where he'd agreed to meet Dumbledore. The esteemed headmaster would then escort him off the grounds and Apparate them both to the Ministry.

As soon as Harry rounded one last corner he caught sight of Dumbledore standing before the doors of the Great Hall. The older man was wearing a set of ostentatious purple robes.

"Harry, my boy," the headmaster beamed. "Right on time. Please follow me; we'll be Apparating to the Ministry of Magic today."

Harry tucked in his head in a bow and then followed the older wizard. Surprisingly, he found that he had to walk quickly to keep up with Dumbledore's long strides, and thus began to mentally curse his small size. And just when he'd finally gotten tall in his original timeline, too...

Before long Dumbledore and Harry were passing through the gates that lead to the outside of Hogwarts' grounds—and thus wards. A few feet beyond them Dumbledore stopped and turned to Harry.

"Here we are," Dumbledore said. "Now, just hold on tightly to my arm and I'll side-along Apparate you. It'll feel uncomfortable at first, but it'll be over in just a second."

Harry did as he'd been instructed and with a quiet pop the two wizards disappeared.

* * *

A/N: This must be a record for me; it's been less than a week since my last update. Does this make up for the cliffhanger in the last chapter? Though admittedly, this chapter could technically be called a cliffhanger as well, minus the suspense. I was also quite amused at the number of people who correctly (or near correctly) guessed the direction this story was taking. I suppose that just means I'll have to start putting a few twists in, no? And finally, Mikael is pronounced as Mii-kai-el, not Michael.

For those of you who aren't aware, there's a site error on FF at the moment that's preventing people from updating stories in categories with over 40,000 or so stories (e.g. Harry Potter, Naruto, etc). So if you haven't been getting many alerts for the past week, that's why! For you authors: this error can be bypassed by changing "property" to "content" in your address bar when you get the error.

[Shi]


	11. Chapter X: The Wizengamot

Summary: Harry Potter is just an eccentric school boy with some unusual talents. Lord Peverell-Black, on the other hand, is a magically and politically powerful man with the world at his fingertips and a war at his doorstep. [Time travel, no pairings.]

* * *

Shards of Time: The Master of Death

Chapter X  
_The Wizengamot_

* * *

_"In youth we learn, in age we understand." – Marie Von Ebner-Eschenback_

The atrium of the Ministry of Magic looked just as Harry remembered it from his fifth year, sparkling ceiling, gleaming fountain and all. The place was even busier than he remembered, Harry thought as he watched the hundreds of wizards streaming in and out via floo and Apparition.

Harry couldn't help but frown at that fountain, with its witch, wizard, centaur, goblin, and house-elf. Having interacted with other species so much he frankly found the monument to be disgusting. Wizards thought so much of themselves, and yet so many of them were completely incompetent.

Dumbledore swiftly led Harry through the atrium. As they walked people began to stare at them and the room broke out in loud whispers. Dumbledore just smiled serenely and led his way through the masses. Despite his current feelings towards the older man, Harry couldn't help but stare in awe as he easily used his aura of wisdom and power to make people step aside. No wonder he was the only person that Voldemort ever feared.

To Harry's surprise, he and Dumbledore didn't stop in front of the security desk. Rather, Dumbledore just flashed Harry's invitation to the Wizengamot and the balding man there instantly waved them on by.

"Normally visitors have to get their wands checked but security, but members of the Wizengamot and some high ranking Ministry employees are exempt," the headmaster told his young charge. "The Ministry has had security problems with copied wand signatures in the past."

After a swift ride on the elevator, a voice announced, "Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services."

Harry and Dumbledore stepped out into a corridor that was lined with doors. Harry faintly remembered visiting this floor with Mr. Weasley just before his trial. Dumbledore didn't take Harry anywhere near the Auror Headquarters like Mr. Weasley had though. Instead he led the way all the way down to the end of the very long hallway where two Aurors were standing on either side of a large pair of double doors. As Harry and Dumbledore stopped a few feet from them, the younger wizard stared down at the floor in front of the Aurors, intrigued.

On the floor was a large circle, about four feet in diameter with several intricate smaller circles within it. The inner edges of the circles were lined with numerous tiny runes.

It was then that one of the Aurors spoke, pulling Harry's attention away from the curious circle. "Step forward and state you name."

Dumbledore smiled benignly down at Harry "It's standard procedure to make sure that only those who are supposed to attend the Wizengamot get in. Watch."

With that the headmaster stepped forward, into the center of the intricate circle. "Albus Dumbledore," he said firmly. Instantly, the circle, runes and all, lit up with a bright white light that seemed to shoot upwards. With a small smile the older wizards stepped back out of the circle, which then stopped glowing. He then nodded towards Harry, indicating that the boy should do the same.

Hesitating slightly, Harry stepped forward and into the center of the runic circle. This was something that he hadn't been expecting. He desperately hoped that the circle would accept just part of his name instead of all of it. This seemed to be the case as Dumbledore hadn't said his full name, but still...

Taking a deep breath, Harry intoned, "Harry Potter." To his great relief the circle immediately lit up with a white light.

As Harry stepped back of the circle, he noticed that Dumbledore had a look of...relief?...on his face. Before he could ponder on this however, his attention was drawn back to the two Aurors as they pulled open the doors they'd been guarding.

"Please proceed," the first Auror stated in an almost monotonous voice.

The moment that Harry stepped into the room beyond the doors he was assaulted by what seemed like a wall of noise and chatter. The large stone room before him was filled with nearly two hundred people, all of whom were mingling amongst each other.

Seeing Harry's surprised expression, Dumbledore smiled down at Harry like some indulgent grandfather. To be honest, that annoyed Harry, but he was required to act the part of a scared little boy, so he had to put up with it. He couldn't be the "defiant teenager" that he'd had the luxury of being before; it could get him killed.

"Only about half of these people are on the Wizengamot," Dumbledore told Harry. "The rest are ambassadors from other countries. They come to observe the meetings and report back the happenings to their respective governments. This is a way of keeping world relations very open."

Just as Dumbledore finished his explanation the two caught sight of Fudge, who was making his way towards them through the crowds. A large, plastic smile covered his face.

"Dumbledore!" the Minister of Magic said when he reached them. "How good to see you again. And this must be Harry Potter!" He reached out and began enthusiastically shaking Harry's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter. Or should I say Lord Potter, eh? Very strange, that, but it's a pleasure to have you on the Wizengamot nonetheless. Ah, but where are my manners! I am Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. If there's anything you need—anything at all—please don't hesitate to ask."

Harry pasted a friendly smile on his face to hide the disgust that he felt for the man before him and then firmly shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you too, Minister."

Fudge beamed down at Harry before abruptly catching sight of something off in the distance. He excused himself and began to hurry off, when he suddenly stopped and turned back to Dumbledore.

"I'll...speak with you later then?" he questioned. Dumbledore seemed to understand what he meant and nodded silently while smiling.

Harry spent the next ten or so minutes being introduced to many people, all of whom seemed eager to meet him despite his age. He even ran into Umbridge once, to his utter horror.

Quite abruptly Harry heard the sound of a throat being cleared behind him. Surprised, Harry jerked around, only to come face to face with a tall, regal, and imposing man who was staring at him through a pair of piercing amber eyes. He appeared to be in his late forties, early fifties and had dark hair than was streaked with grey and a short goatee. Out of all of this, however, his most distinguishing feature was probably the ragged scar that ran down the left side of his face.

"Ah, hello Lord Adair," Dumbledore greeted with a smile. "Harry, my boy, this is Richard Adair. He's the Chief Familia in the Wizengamot. Lord Adair, this is Harry Potter."

Harry and the older wizard exchanged bows. "It's nice to meet you, sir," Harry said.

Lord Adair's lips quirked upwards into a small smile. "You as well, Lord Potter." He glanced around for a moment then, his eyes briefly resting on Dumbledore before returning to Harry. "Walk with me?" he requested. At Harry's agreement, he nodded towards Dumbledore. "Excuse us."

Dumbledore smiled them and it was only through years of experience watching him that Harry knew that it was a tight smile rather than a relaxed one. The younger boy frowned curiously, wondering if there was something between Lord Adair and Dumbledore.

Adair led Harry away from the main crowds and over to an empty corner where several chairs were clustered around. The Chief Familia gestured for Harry to sit and then did so himself, easily falling into a relaxed position.

For a moment Adair just studied Harry over his steepled fingers. His amber eyes pierced into Harry, causing him to shift uncomfortably in his seat. When Adair finally spoke, it was in a slow, rich tone.

"To be entirely honest," he began, "I'm not quite sure what to make of your appointment to the Wizengamot. You see, we accepted you only because magic itself decided that you are an adult. We of the Wizengamot have not been able to discern the reason behind this. The best explanation we've been able to find is that when you were hit by the killing curse it wiped out whatever it is that distinguishes a child's magic from an adult's magic.

"The problem, however, is that this does not explain why you were not thus named Lord Potter when you were one. Actually, you were not recognized as an adult until just a month or so before your eleventh birthday. As I said, we currently have no rationalization for this."

While Adair spoke he stared at Harry with his searching eyes. While this unnerved Harry slightly, he was also relived to see no suspicion in their depths. Good; that meant that the man most likely didn't believe that Harry knew why he was considered an adult.

At the same time, Harry was also studying Adair. The man was interesting, to say the least. There was something definitively...regal...about him. He also obviously wielded quite a bit of political power, yet Harry had never heard of him before.

Before Harry could even open his mouth to reply to Adair's statement they were suddenly joined back a third figure. Harry looked up, only to freeze in surprise as he gaze met a pair of familiar mismatched eyes.

The other person only glanced at Harry before turning to Adair, his shaggy dark hair falling partially into his face as he moved. "Lord Adair," he greeted in a silky voice.

Smirking, Adair stood up and greeted the other man with a firm handshake. "Lord Peverell-Black," he returned. "It's good to see you again. This is Lord Potter."

Harry continued to stare as "Lord Peverell-Black" turned back around to face him. He was starting to realize just why Time-Turners were restricted and why people using them could go mad. He was standing face to face with himself. From the _future_. It was a...bizarre...sensation, to say the least. Had he not known that he was going to use his Time-Turners later, Harry would have immediately thought the person before him to be an imposter.

A dark smirk curled at the edges of the older Harry's mouth and a knowing glint lit up his eyes. Taking the initiative, he lowered himself into a bow.

"It's a...pleasure...to meet you, Lord Potter. I am Marcus Peverell-Black."

Harry managed to sketch a quick bow at "Marcus" while reigning in his nerves. He said nothing, fearing that he'd squeak if he opened his mouth.

Marcus took a seat in one of the empty chairs without waiting for an invitation.  
Adair raised on eyebrow at the action, but Marcus just met him stare for stare. Eventually, Adair let out a chuckle and looked back at Harry.

"Lord Peverell-Black is another new member o the Wizengamot," the older wizard told Harry. "He's one of the few to ever hold two seats."

Marcus smiled again. "Maybe we can help each other in learning the ways of the government, eh?"

Harry had to hold back a laugh. Part of the reason Marcus had been "created" as an alias was the Wizengamot. Help each other indeed.

Harry finally flashed one of his owns grins to Marcus. "Yeah, that'd be great."

Adair released another chuckle. "It's good to see that you two get along; you're the youngest members of the Wizengamot right now."

Marcus opened his mouth to respond and then suddenly hesitated as if expecting something. Not a moment later Harry noticed that there was another person approaching their small group. A very familiar person.

Lucius Malfoy.

Malfoy swaggered forward with a sort of graceful confidence, his trademark cane clunking against the floor. He stopped before them with a self-assured smirk on his face.

Harry froze in surprise at the sight of the man. A death eater. One of the bastards whom he'd fought so hard against. A— ...Draco's father. Surprised by the sudden thought, Harry's expression turned into a frown.

Marcus was the first one to react to the elder Malfoy's presence. He stood fluidly from his seat and bowed just slightly to the man.

"You must be Lord Malfoy," he began. "I've...heard of you."

Malfoy raised one delicately arched eyebrow. "Good things I hope...?" Malfoy started dryly, only to trail off as he realized that he didn't recognize the man before him.

Marcus smiled widely at Malfoy's predicament. "Lord Peverell-Black," he said in reply, but other than that gave no answer to Malfoy's question.

As soon as he heard the name Malfoy's gaze sharpened considerable. He sized up the man before him like a predator, wondering just how much of a danger the young lord could be.

"My wife's a Black, you know," he started amicably, clearly trying to pull some information out about Marcus' relation to the Black family. Fortunately, Marcus immediately saw the attempt for what it was.

"I know," the time traveler said simply. Though he hid it, Malfoy looked frustrated with the response. He continued to stare at Marcus for several long seconds before finally turning his attention on Harry. Almost instantly, Malfoy caught sight of Harry's scar and allowed his mouth to curl into another small smirk.

"Lord Potter," he greeted with what could only be described as a satisfied hiss. He then stepped forward and bowed to the younger wizard. "It's a pleasure to finally get to meet you. My son has spoken often of you."

Harry started to snarl angrily, but fortunately managed to catch himself just in time. In this timeline he hadn't met Malfoy yet. To eleven year old Harry he should only be a friend's father.

Struggling to control his facial features, Harry rose from his seat and smoothly bowed to the older man. "Draco has spoken of you too, so it's nice to finally get to meet you face to face."

A loud ding echoed through the room, causing Harry to jump in surprise. Most everyone else seemed to expect it, however, and there was a sudden influx of people as everyone in the crowd began to make their way towards a pair of double doors that were on the opposite side of the room as the entrance doors.

Adair swiftly moved to his feet. "That's the bell signaling the start of the Wizengamot. Please follow me and I'll direct you to your seats."

Marcus bowed his head in Adair's direction. "Thank you for your help, Lord Adair."

While Adair waved off Marcus' thanks, Malfoy also took the time to bow. "It was a pleasure to meet you both," he told Marcus and Harry. "I hope to get to speak with you both again soon."

"Yes, indeed," Marcus replied with a small smile. Harry murmured a similar reply, though he didn't mean it at all; if he never saw Malfoy again it'd be too soon in his opinion.

The next few minutes were a blur to Harry as Adair led Marcus and him into the Wizengamot meeting room. Malfoy detached himself from their small group at one point in order to make his way to his own seat. Before long Adair had led Harry and Marcus into one of the four sections of seating that made up the room.

"This is the Familia section seating," Adair explained. To our right is the Ministry section and to our left is the Warlock section. The balcony seating across from us is for the Ambassadors."

"Do we have particular seats that we have to sit in?" Harry asked curiously.

Adair chuckled. "At one time there was. Rules have changed over the centuries though, and now it's open seating."

"Order! Order!" Fudge suddenly called out from across the room. Harry glanced down to see that the doors to the room were tightly sealed and everyone had already been seated. "I call into order the second Wizengamot meeting of the Winter Term. The day is September 15th, the year 1991."

And thus it began.

* * *

Harry calmly rested his hands behind his head as he strode through the halls of Hogwarts. Through the tall windows that lined the walls waning light could be seen. Harry guessed that it was around six in the evening, though he wasn't sure.

The Wizengamot meeting had been...interesting, if a bit boring as well. It had lasted for quite a few hours and they'd covered everything from creating new laws to assigning court dates. By the time it'd been over Harry had been exhausted. He _really_ wasn't looking forward to reliving the meeting as Marcus Peverell-Black, but it wasn't like he had a choice. Marcus had been there after all, which meant that he _would_ be going back in time.

Following the meeting Harry had the chance to meet with several more Wizengamot members, including Blaise's father. The Italian man had sparked his interest, especially since he'd been one of the few to not treat him like a child. Harry looked forward to speaking with the man again.

Once those introductions had been done Dumbledore had gathered him up and escorted him back to Hogwarts via the floo. Which thus lead to where Harry currently was, walking through the halls. He was on his way to the Room of Requirement as a matter of fact; he planned on heading over to Grimmauld Place. He had a few things to take care of and then he would travel back in time to that morning.

Lost in his thoughts as Harry was it seemed to take only a few seconds for his feet to carry him to the Room of Requirement. The young wizard passed back and forth in front of wall three times before swiftly slipping inside the door that appeared.

The room that Harry stepped into was one that he'd thought up only just recently as a place to escape to when he needed space. Though he used the term room lightly as a quick glance up revealed a spiral staircase leading to two more open floors, both of which were covered in bookcase. The bottom floor had taken on the appearance of a study, complete with a large wooden desk, several comfy chairs, and a roaring fireplace.

Harry smiled as he glanced around. Perfect; a calm place to relax. Unfortunately he didn't have the time right now.

After pausing only a moment in the doorway Harry strode over to where a large cabinet—one of the Vanishing Cabinets, to be precise—was situated. He'd gotten it back from the goblins only the night before and had placed it in this room so that only he could access it; it wouldn't do for anyone to wander into Grimmauld Place, after all.

Smirking lightly Harry stepped into the cabinet and then stepped out into his new home.

* * *

Harry shivered as the cool autumn bit into the skin as he walked down Diagon Alley. It was around noon, which meant that he had a few hours before the Wizengamot meeting.

Harry pulled his cloak tighter around him as he headed towards the entrance to Knockturn Alley. He was wearing his Mikael alias and while that made him stand out, it also caused people stay away from him. Well, except for the hawkers, but Harry was doubtful that anything less than Lord Voldemort himself could keep them from attempting to sell their nasty wares.

After only a few minutes of a brisk walk Harry arrived outside Rosburg Tavern. David, his informant, was standing there, waiting. The older man had his cloak drawn up around him but was standing with aura of someone who was comfortable and used to the dark alley.

"This way," David murmured without looking at him. He ducked into a side alley and began to lead Harry through narrow stone passageway.

As Harry strode along behind David he kept a firm grip on the Elder Wand. While he somewhat trusted David, he'd only met the man three times before this. That and paranoia from the war had really gotten too; you never knew who you could trust.

Finally David came to a stop in front of dingy wooden door that seemed to blend in with the stone around it. He knocked firmly on it twice and then entered without waiting for a reply. Harry slipped inside close behind the man, but made sure to keep his hand near the doorknob just in case he needed to get out quickly.

The room inside was just as dingy and dark as the door had suggested it would be. It was also bare of anything but a few rotting pieces of furniture, all of which were occupied by a handful shifty looking wizard. Had David not explained to Harry where they would be going before hand the younger wizard would have thought that he'd been tricked. As it was he barely paid the room any attention as he followed David to a staircase hidden by several dirty crates and then headed down to the basement.

The basement Harry stepped into was far larger than the upstairs room would have led one o believe. As a matter of fact the chamber occupied the space beneath several of the nearby buildings and was almost the size of the Hogwarts Great Hall—almost.

Within the chamber was what could only be described as a miniature marketplace. Booths and stores were set up everywhere and at least a hundred or two people covered the remaining space. The air was abuzz with conversation, haggling, and the loud exclamations of hawkers.

It took all of Harry's will not to let his shock show on his face. He'd known that he was to be shown an underground market—and had even had to swear a secrecy oath—but he wasn't expecting it to be quite this large or busy! From the looks of it there were people from all over the world here.

David smirked lightly as if knowing what Harry was thinking and then began to weave his way through the crowds. Again Harry followed close behind him, but even so nearly lost the man twice within the market. Eventually David pushed aside a piece of cloth covering the entrance to one of the booths and led Harry inside.

Though to booth was small, hundreds of objects were lying on display on the tables inside. The walls were made of cloth like the entrance—doubtless incase it needed to be taken down quickly—and only partially blocked out light, leaving them in a dim setting.

In one corner of the booth sat a man with thick, curly black hair and a short beard. He face was both crinkled and smooth at the same time and Harry couldn't quite place his age. The man's slid over him as they studied each other and seemed to pierce straight through each other.

"Bhaltair," David greeted somewhat nervously. "This is Mikael, the man I told you about..."

"Do you have it?" Harry asked without any preamble.

At first Bhaltair didn't reply. He stared at David and the man quickly dipped his head in a short bow before swiftly removing himself from the booth. Bhaltair's eyes then returned to Harry and he spent several more seconds studying him. Finally the older man seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and in one fluid motion he rose to his feet.

In a few quick strides Bhaltair was in front of Harry. As he walked he pulled an item from his robes and handed it to the younger wizard.

Harry turned the item over in his hands, eyeing it curiously. It was a golden bracelet made of a thick golden metal that wrapped around several times. Inscribed into the metal were numerous runes that were so tiny they were all but invisible.

"It'll suppress your magical signature without affecting your magic," Bhaltair explained. "Wearing this everything from a point-me charm to a complex location spell will be blocked; the only thing that'll be able to locate you with magic will be owls. And perhaps a couple of highly dark blood rituals."

Harry nodded thoughtfully as he continued to study the armband. A week or so ago he'd asked David to see what he could find out about magical suppressors. Not a day later the man had contacted him, saying he knew someone who might have what he needed.

For Harry, this magical suppressor was _very_ necessary. Just days after receiving Wizengamot invitation for Lord Peverell-Black he'd realized that there was one fatal flaw in his time-travel life-style: If someone performed a location spell to figure out where Marcus Peverell-Black, it would come up as saying that he was in Hogwarts. And that _really_ wouldn't be good. So, just as an extra precaution, he was looking for something that would suppress his magical signature so that no one would be able to find him. It might be a bit suspicious, but certainly the lesser evil compared to someone finding out the truth.

Finally Harry nodded. "This'll do," he grunted as he looked back up at Bhaltair. He opened his mouth to continue, only to pause when he caught sight of something lying on one of the tables. "You...sell wands as well?"

"Yessir. I've got quite a collection at the moment. Interested?"

"Possibly," Harry replied slowly, mulling over the idea. It'd be good to have backup wands for his different alias—being caught at Mikael with Harry Potter's wand, for example, would be a bad idea. "I...I have a few...clients...who might be interested. What do you have?"

* * *

By one O'clock Harry left Knockturn Alley with a smile on his face. He'd ended up purchasing three wands from Bhaltair—one for Mikael and two extras, just in case. From this point on, he decided, the Elder Wand would belong to Marcus Peverell-Black.

Done with his purchases, Harry headed over to Diagon Alley's Apparition point. He'd pop over to Grimmauld place to drop off the wands before heading over to the Ministry. With any luck he'd get to the waiting room with plenty of time to spare.

Harry's estimation ended up being spot on and he arrived in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic with more than a half an hour until the meeting would begin. He easily bypassed security with a flash of his invitation and stepped onto the elevator. Surprisingly there was only one person there: Richard Adair.

"Good afternoon," Harry greeted with a polite bow.

The older wizard glanced Harry over before smiling in reply. "'Afternoon," he responded, nodding his head in Harry's direction. "Would you happen to be here for the Wizengamot meeting?"

"Yes sir. I am Lord Marcus Peverell-Black. And you?"

Adair's eyebrow shot into his hairline. He finally turned to fully face the dark haired wizard and said, "Lord Peverell-Black? It's good to finally get the chance to meet you. I am Lord Richard Adair, Chief Familia."

Harry forced his eyes to widen. "Lord Adair? You are the one who sent me the invitation, correct?"

"Indeed," Adair agreed with a slight chuckle. "I must admit that I'm a bit surprised with your... Well, your existence, to be honest. You seemed to have appeared from thin air. You wouldn't happen to know why—or how for that matter—you were named Lord Black without being the late Lord Black's heir?"

Harry allowed a dark smile to cross his face as he titled his head to the side. "I would," he said. Adair waited for him to continue, but Harry said nothing else.

As the doors to the elevator opened and the voice announced their arrival on level two, Adair threw his head back and let out a bark of a laugh. "I like you, kid," he finally said with a wide grin. "You're interesting. And I suppose that we're all allowed our secrets. Come, I'll take you to the Wizengamot room."

Harry silently shook his head in amusement as he followed the tall man down the hall. Well at least he got along with _someone_ on the Wizengamot.

The next ten or so minutes passed by quickly for Harry. Though he'd been worried, he'd easily managed to get past the rune circle outside the waiting room by announcing himself as "Peverell-Black" instead of "Marcus Peverell-Black". Following that, Adair led him around the room, introducing him to several notable members of the Wizengamot, including Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Law Enforcement. Eventually they split up and Harry continued touring the room on his own.

"Lord Peverell-Black?" the familiar voice of his headmaster spoke up from behind Harry. The young wizard still for a moment, his heart pounding. This was the ultimate test: could his disguise stand up to Dumbledore. Harry took and deep breath and then turned around.

"Yes?" Harry asked while smiling politely up at Dumbledore. "Can I help you?"

"Perhaps, good sir," the wizened old man said with a chuckle. "I am Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump, and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Ah, yes, Dumbledore," Harry said while bowing in greeting. "I have heard much about you. It's an honor to get to meet you. Though I must ask: How did you know who I was?"

"A guess; I recognize most everyone here, except for you," he answered. Harry nodded, slightly relieved that that's all it was. He knew next to nothing about what Dumbledore was really capable of, after all. "And in return, would you mind if I asked you a question?"

"Certainly.

"What school did you attend? You have a British accent, but I know that you did not attend Hogwarts."

"I was home schooled," Harry replied without missing a beat. He was thankful to have thought this through beforehand. It would be good if he also had a way to cement his alibi, but he wasn't sure how to do that quite yet. "I enjoyed the experience, though I've heard many good things about Hogwarts."

Dumbledore's smile widened. "Good, good. I'm glad. Perhaps you'll be able to stop by the school sometime; I'd be happy to give you a tour."

"Thank you, Dumbledore. I may just take you up on that offer."

"Call me Albus, please. Though our ages may differ, I do hope that we'll be able to become friends."

Harry couldn't help but laugh lightly as he shook hands with Dumbledore. "Alright, but only if you call me Marcus." Getting to know the headmaster as Marcus, he thought with an internal smirk, could help more than he'd imagined. Now all had to do was keep who knew which of his alias and in what way straight...

* * *

Following the Wizengamot meeting, Harry's life began to pass in a blur of activity. He split his life between school, his friends, and his others life, and was surprised to find himself balancing his life fairly easily. The fact that the classes were so easy helped out a lot, as he could focus his time on other, more important things.

The only problem was his friends. Harry had known that there would probably be some difficulties between them since they were all from different houses, but the rivalry between Draco and Ron was beginning to get a bit ridiculous. He could only hope that they wouldn't have a repeat of the Troll incident on Halloween.

Fortunately Harry had one thing to take his mind off of everything: broom racing. He attended the practice on September 21st and immediately found himself drawn to the sport.

When Harry had first agreed to join the team, he'd expected the races to be just like the tryout: Fly to a point and back. As it turned out however, this was only half the story. The races took place on an obstacle course that was changed for every race. The racers would have to complete this course—a course of which caused the fliers to complete several feats that took more than a small amount of agility and luck—as fast as they could while dealing with the others racers. Sabotage was not only allowed, but _encouraged_! It truly was a brutal game.

So of course, Harry loved it.

By the time that Saturday October 12th rolled around, Harry was pumped up and ready for the first race. The news that Harry Potter was on the racing team had already made it through the school, so a much larger turnout than usual was expected for the race. In fact, Harry wouldn't be surprised if the whole school came.

"This is great!" Bryan, the team captain, exclaimed as he and the rest of the team walked across Hogwarts grounds from Quidditch lockers, which were used by broom racers as well. "Maybe now broom racing will finally get some limelight!"

Harry chuckled while shaking his head in amusement. He could understand the sixth year's joy however; after all, throughout his entire time in the wizarding world he'd never even heard broom racing mentioned more than once or twice. Before walking in on those tryouts he hadn't even known that Hogwarts had racing teams!

As they continued to walk towards where the race would be held, Harry turned his thoughts onto what he and the rest of the team were wearing. As he'd found at the first practice, broom racers wore was something akin to leather armor. They were all decked out in leather bracers, shin guards, vests, gloves, and boots. Apparently all of these along with their brooms were spelled to be resistant to magic in order to avoid interference from the crowd.

For his part, Harry was just glad that it meant that Quirrel couldn't curse his broom again.

Before long Harry and his team arrived at where the race would take place in the middle of a massive open field. There were bleachers set up on one side of the field that were already completely packed with students. Across from that was the track itself, which instantly made Harry gulp.

The track was comprised of numerous hoops and bars hovering at various altitudes in the air that would guide the racers to where they needed to be. Harry had known from his conversations with Bryan that the race would be something like this, but he hadn't expected some of those corners to be quite so sharp. He could already see several in particular that would take fairly dangerous maneuvers to get around, never mind that there were going to be over a dozen fliers in the air at the same time.

Harry grinned. '_Wicked._' He'd thought that Quidditch was a dangerous sport, but racing was proving to be far worse. And they weren't even off the ground yet.

* * *

David Kenith was having a bad day. Actually, he was having a bad month, but he preferred not to dwell on the specific length of time lest his frustration build up too much as cause him to go on a bloody rampage.

It had all started back in September when Marcus Peverell-Black had suddenly appeared in the Ministry records as the head of both the Peverell and the Black houses. Instantly the Ministry had been in an uproar, attempting to find out who this man was and where he'd come from. Despite their best efforts however, they'd managed to come up with nothing. _Nothing_. They hadn't even known the man's first name until he introduced himself at the second Wizengamot meeting.

And for Unspeakables such as David, such a lapse in intelligence was unheard of.

David buried his head in his arms and groaned. As he did so several papers crinkled beneath him, but the middle-aged wizard just ignored them. He did, however, make a mental note to ask his boss for a larger desk; even though the one he had barely fit in the small room he called an office, it was already completely buried in papers. So maybe it was just a larger office that he needed. He'd only been on this case for a month and he'd already run out of room for the paperwork!

The frustration of having nothing to show for his work was really beginning to build within David. Having been an Unspeakable for over a decade he'd had difficult cases before, but nothing like this.

It was as if Marcus Peverell-Black had just popped out of thin air. He had no past housing records, no schooling records, and no medical records. He had no records of any type except for his Wizengamot and Gringotts ones! It was completely and utterly unheard of for someone to have absolutely no paper trail.

David's first assumption was, of course, that Marcus had been using an assumed name up until that point. And that, of course, led to the question of why he had.

Furthermore, David _still_ hadn't been able to figure out how Marcus had become the Lord of House Black. When Lord Arcturus Black had died only six months ago he had named no heir in his will and so the lordship had automatically transferred to the next male heir, namely Sirius Black. This was what the records of the Black family had showed. Or at least they had until Marcus had showed up and then they had suddenly and inexplicably changed. David knew because he'd personally checked the records. Twice.

The sound of a knock on his door instantly brought David back into an upright position. The Unspeakable carefully slipped his wand from his robes while calling for the knocker to enter.

"Sir," a twenty year old witch said as she poked her head around the door, "I have that report you wanted."

"Well, come in then," David commanded. The witch quickly did so, scrambling to close the door behind her. David repressed a sigh; were all Unspeakable understudies always this nervous? He could understand them being eager—they _were_ training to be Unspeakables, after all—but he certainly couldn't remember jumping ever time his superior spoke when he'd been their age.

"Well?"

The witch stood before him with her chin held high. "I spoke with the stores as you ordered, sir. Lord Peverell-Black was spotted near the Diagon Alley Apparition point several times, but not since the last Wizengamot meeting. Since September 15th he's seemed to have completely disappeared."

"And?" David barked out. "Where was he seen going into?"

"Umm," the Unspeakable understudy hesitated. "Gringotts in the only place I could confirm him entering...I'm almost sure that he never went into Knockturn Alley though! Not without a cloak at least."

David nodded thoughtfully. His other sources had said basically the same thing. Marcus hadn't been seen anywhere in or near Knockturn Alley—not that that meant he hadn't been there, just that he hadn't been open about it.

It was, of course, one of the Ministry's top concerns that Marcus was or could become a dark wizard. All Blacks had been dark wizards after all, and even though Marcus had had no prior contact with the Blacks as far as they could tell, it was best to be careful. David had been assigned to find out exactly who Marcus Peverell-Black was, and he would do so despite the complete dead ends he'd run into so far.

He'd uncover Marcus' secrets, even if it killed him.


End file.
